24 Steps
by Orange Sodie
Summary: Chapter 17 REposted.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: None of the ER characters belong to me.   
Author's notes: This story is very angsty, so watch out. I've posted this somewhere but since I have an account here I thought, what the hell. This story is rated R for strong language and sexual contents. All kinds of feedback are welcomed.   
  
  
  
"24 Steps" by Carolina  
  
  
Everything had come at once, and at once, everything fell. Nothing was chronological anymore, but life had taken the identity and conformity of a cheap kite, waiting for a good raft of wind to take it up and then with the same force, crash into the ground.  
  
Abby pushed the door to the roof open, gasping for a little air and half stumbling towards the ledge of the building. Once there, she held on to the wall of cement and it supported her as her body made its way down, and finally resting heavily on the dirty ground. Her shaking fingers reached into the pocket of her scrubs, and they came out with a new pack of cigarettes. But that was not enough comfort. Cigarettes hadn't had that soothing effect on her in a long time. Her body was so used to the nicotine, that she could cross her heart and hoped to die through her veins, only brown liquid ran.  
  
She lit it anyway. It wasn't the smoke filling her lungs, the burning sensation on the back of her throat or the soft fabric between her fingers that drew her to smoking. She smoked because no matter what happened, cigarettes would always be there for her. They didn't burden her with "How was your day?" or, "Why are you crying?" not even a "We need to talk" None of that shit. They came out of their pack, fulfilled their destiny as stress relievers and died on the pavement in the middle of the city. Not questions asked, no answers given.  
  
Still, they didn't have the needed effect. Not for a long time now. Not that ticket to another world she had once found in alcohol.  
  
It hadn't been a big surprise, when who ever were up there lifted her up, let her down and screwed her over again. Actually, if she was observant enough, she could even find a pattern. How long before happiness escaped? Five years? Four and a half? It didn't matter, because it always did. She had considered herself no different from cancer patients in remission. Weren't they also expecting it to come back and haunt them again? Didn't they have to watch their back every second of the day to avoid the inevitable?  
  
This time the checkered tumbling flag had been her tuition payment. After that, everything came flowing, one problem after the other. One giving the preceding the green light, and so it goes. It was Carter's addiction, it was Luka's grief, it was her mother's state of mind, it was her tuition all over again, and it was the hectic pace of the ER. Lately the only words coming out of her mouth had been "How are you?" or "Do you need to talk?" Her activities had consisted in supportive phone calls, her shoulders as loans, miles to walk with, coffee's to sit over and talk. She was, in fact, a pack of cigarettes. People kept reaching in and taking without her having the balls to say no.  
  
The day had started like any other. Didn't they all start the same way? The sun came out; her alarm went off, her breakfast served by her hands. Then work. Haleh Adams' speech for being late again, understanding yet reprimanding. Then patients. Asking for doctors, pushing to be allowed to go in first, lying to receive faster care, ignoring her instructions because she didn't have an M.D. after her name. Nurses suddenly weren't good enough to be wanted or needed anymore.  
  
Then the tip of the iceberg. She had reached up a shelf of the supply room for some Haldol, only the small bottle stumbled upon her klutzy fingers and came down, catapulting scattered crystal and liquid everywhere. Then came her hysteria, her unexpected over reaction.   
  
Kerry had reassured her it was ok. "It's just some Haldol, Abby, it's all right," the motherly voice still echoed in her head. "It's not all right" had been the wanted answer, but instead, she just went directly to the roof, ignoring Kerry's voice calling her out.  
  
And that's the end of that story.  
  
She put her head between her thighs, which were cemented to her chest, her right hand holding the burning cigarette and the left holding the pack and the lighter at the same time. The door opened again. Fuck whoever was behind it. She had no intention of looking up for anyone, even if it was that jackass Romano. Whoever it was, knew her better than that though, because she felt someone sit down next to her. Still, silence filled the air. It was a comfortable and familiar silence, so it didn't take her long to figure out whom it was.  
  
"Kerry told me what happened," the Croat mumbled, looking at her buried head between her legs. He flinched his face when he saw the cigarettes in her hands. He hated that she smoked, and had tried everything to get her to stop. He bought her that patch, hid her packs, tried pep talks, tried to scold her, bought her a book, and had even tried that gum. Nothing had worked though. The burning cigarette, he noticed, hadn't been puffed in a while, because the fire had burned the skin and the ashes still hung on to it, as long as the initial length. Hesitantly, he reached over and removed both the cigarette and the pack from her hands, and after throwing the lit one far away from her, put the pack and the lighter into his pocket. But Abby didn't move a muscle, and her hair was tumbling only because the Chicago wind was playing its tricks again.  
  
Luka let out a sigh, not taking his eyes off her for a moment. "Abby what's wrong?" he asked, the concern evident in the choice the tone of his voice. It was a question he was always scared of asking. Not generally, but to her. Not to Abby Lockhart. Not the woman who chased him out of the hospital to offer her shoulder. The woman who had taken him for all he had. The woman who ever so stubbornly came into his hotel room to force him to rely on her. The woman who didn't even passed judgment or looked down on him when he killed a man. Not his Abby.  
  
But now here he was asking it, and his body revolted at his own words. Yet he wasn't even getting an answer from her. He reached over with his hand and entangled his fingers into her hair, massaging the tense muscles of her neck, trying to elicit at least a blink out of her. "Abby, please talk to me," he pleaded desperately, using the same words she used with him once, but which had no effect on his self-pity.   
  
Finally, under all that silence and struggle to remain strong, there was a sniff. It was so soft and weak, Luka wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't for his amazing hearing ability. His hand traveled down her back and once around her waist, his arm pulled her towards him, allowing her to rest her head on his chest. He figured the sniff was due to the chilly temperature, because she wasn't crying at all.  
  
She let out a sigh of what he hoped was relief and not further sinking. They always had this unconventional way of communicating without words. It had worked out better than Luka could have ever imagined. With one look, each one could give the ok to sit down and talk, or to send the other away to have some time alone. Abby always opted for the talking; it was Luka who often found himself wordless in front of her. He had yet to figure out if it was all those years of solving his own problems, or the knowledge that Abby understood.   
  
She had always been subtle but quick in her approach. Hell, if it weren't for her, he would still be trying to work up the courage to ask her out. She was unpredictable and persistent, and never hesitated once to tell him about her alcohol problems or her past. It was that gentle straightforwardness that drew him to her so desperately. He needed her, depended on her like a heavenly drug. He was ashamed of admitting it, but Abby was the horse, and he was the hopeless carriage. He found himself running to her for the meaningless things, a hard case, and another confrontation with Kerry, even a headache. Yet not once did she turn him down or rolled her eyes.  
  
Their relationship had started in a way that had led him to believe they wouldn't last a second. Somehow, though, they pulled it off. Things took a wrong turn when he found himself jealous of Carter. Luka was more than bothered by Carter's constant phone calls to Abby. Why did he have to go to her and only her when he had a problem or even needed his back scratched? She almost threw Luka out during those days, and he found himself having to get used to the idea that she was Carter's sponsor, and that if he didn't like that, he could walk out of her life and go find someone who would put on a show just for him, her exact words. So he drew back, and settled with the idea of having to share her attention with another man.  
  
Yet she was just as giving to him as she ever was before. Luka had craved to be there for her also, to have her need him as much as he needed her. But Abby was much more reserved than he had ever been. The extent of her complains were mostly everyday milestones like headaches, stress, and of course, Kerry Weaver. With one swift crack, she had opened him up. Luka kept hitting and hitting and he still hadn't gotten anything out of her. Lately though, he had noticed the change in her mood. Her protests had quiet down, and despite the constant smile on her face, he could tell there was something deeper, eating her inside.   
  
Right now, he had no idea what was wrong with her. Breaking a bottle of Haldol is not enough to induce something like this. Was it her mother? Or was she just having a really bad day? Did she have another encounter with her ex husband? Who had failed to present the money for her tuition yet again? Or was she just trashed by another patient? Many reasons entered his mind, but only one was too painful to be considered. Was it because of him?  
  
Only after touching her hand he realized he was wearing his coat and a thin layer of cheap cotton and polyester only covered her. So he stroked her arm so that the friction would provide her some warmth. "Let's go back inside, ok? You're going to freeze," he said as though he was talking to a little girl.  
  
She still didn't say anything, but he used his hand to lift her head and look her in the eyes. What he saw there scared him, because he saw nothing. He leaned in and kissed her gently, and after that, he used his legs to stand up and his arms to bring her up with him, immediately putting them around her to shield the cold, or at least try.  
  
Before opening the door to the roof, he turned to her and put his hands on each of her shoulders so that he could have her entire attention. "Come by my room after your shift, ok? We'll talk," he said calmly, but stressing every word so that she wouldn't forget.  
  
Abby nodded understandingly, and opened the door herself, ushering them both back into the ER.  
  
-----------------  
  
The dial of her locker was turned to the right, left, and right, and it came open without much force. She reached in to put her coat on, and take her bag with her. She decided to just go home with her scrubs on. Home. Something hit her like a dagger. Luka was probably looking at his watch, waiting for her to knock on her door. He could be so overprotective sometimes, but she figured it was something he carried away from his family's death, so she wouldn't question his exaggerated preoccupation over where she was when she wasn't with him.  
  
Before opening the door, it came open before her, almost hitting her in the nose.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Abby," Carter said, looking down at her. "You ok?" he asked her.  
  
"Yeah," Abby said as she pressed her lips together, trying to form a smile.  
  
Carter put his hands on his pockets, "Are you going home?"   
  
"Yeah, why?" Abby asked, looking up at him, her bag hanging form her back.  
  
"I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something," he said.   
  
Abby morphed into sponsor mode, "Is everything ok?"  
  
"Yeah, fine," Carter said as he leaned on the small portion of wall next to the door. He had heard through the grapevine about Abby's sudden burst that afternoon, and something inside told him he should do something about that. "Well, I just wanted to tell you that I found another sponsor," he said in a tone that tested the water before jumping in.  
  
Abby just stared at him with a blank expression on her face, "Why?" was all she wanted to say.  
  
Carter tried to smile, "You said this was only temporary, right? Until I found an official sponsor," he said simply.  
  
"Oh," Abby said casually.  
  
"It's Phil, you know? That guy who always sits behind us?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Abby said and smiled, "He's a great guy."   
  
"Yeah," Carter said, looking down at her.  
  
There was an awkward pause, until Abby broke it, "Well, I better go," she said, pointing at the door.  
  
Carter smiled and put a hand on her arm, "Ok. Good night, Abby," he said and walked to his locker.  
  
Abby turned around to see his back to her, "See ya," she said distantly and walked out of the room.  
  
---------------  
  
Luka lay on his bed, looking at a television show he couldn't even understand. He hated those situational comedies, but he had to admit that every once in a while, they produced a laugh out of him. He looked at his watch again. Where the hell was Abby? He reached the phone to call the hospital, but retrieved when he realized he was over acting again. No sooner he put his hand on his stomach, than the phone rang.   
  
He reached it up hurriedly. "Hello?"  
  
"Luka? It's me," the voice of Abby echoed on his line.   
  
"Abby? Where are you?" Luka asked, sitting up on his bed, and hearing a mess of people talking behind her voice.  
  
"I'm in the hospital," she said. "Listen, I'm really tired, so I'm just gonna go home, is that ok?"  
  
Luka stood up, "I'll meet you there then," he said.  
  
"No, don't worry about that, I'm just going to go straight to bed," she said.  
  
Luka closed his eyes, "Abby, I wish you could just tell me what's wrong with you," he pleaded.  
  
"There's nothing wrong, ok? I'm just having a really bad day and I wanna go to bed, is that too much to ask?" she suddenly snapped.   
  
Luka rubbed his forehead, and immediately drew back, "Ok, um, I-I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, ok?" he asked.  
  
"Sure," was all Abby said before hanging up the phone. She turned around on the stool of the bar and gave the phone back to the bartender.  
  
He hung it up and came back to her, drying a glass with a towel. "Anything else I can serve you?" he asked with an air of familiarity.  
  
Abby looked at him, and felt her lip tremble involuntarily for a moment. She closed her eyes, and let out a sigh, "Can I have a glass of Vodka?" her voice trembled.  
  
"Just Vodka?" the man asked in disbelief.  
  
"You heard what I said," Abby replied fast before she could change her mind, getting even angrier.  
  
"You look too small to take on a glass of Vodka by yourself..."   
  
"Just do your damn job and give me the fucking drink!" she yelled at him.  
  
The bartender threw his hands in the air in defeat, "Ok, ok," he said and poured the drink into the glass.  
  
"More," Abby said, not being able to take her eyes of the liquid.   
  
The man did as told, and gave her the glass, watching as she drank the alcohol with one gulp.  
  
---------------  
  
Luka held the phone in his hand long after Abby had hung up. He patted it against the palm of his hands a couple of times, and then just put it back on its stand. He let out a sigh and sat on the edge of his bed, his mind racing. He felt the urge to go over to Abby's apartment, or call the ER to ask someone to walk her home. He didn't like her walking through Chicago in the middle of the night, never had. But her words came back in a flash back, and again he realized he was being too over protective. So he shook his head and turned off his lamp. Abby was a big girl and could take care of herself. Easing his head on the pillow, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, only something prevented him from drifting off.  
  
  
To be continued...  



	2. 24 Steps: Part 2

Disclaimer: See part 1  
  
  
  
"24 Steps: Part 2" by Carolina  
  
  
Luka waited in front of Abby's door for her to open it so they could go to work. It was still a little early, but he hadn't had the of luxury of sleep the night before, and since Abby hadn't been answering the phone, the first thing he did before even having breakfast was come over, he figured they could stop at Doc Magoo's for some food later. Still there was no answer at her door. He reached inside his pocket and took out his keys, looking for the particular bronze one. They key slid perfectly into the lock and Luka turned the knob, pushing the door open. Inside there was an awfully uncomfortable silence, and all the shades of her windows were up, the rays of sun revealing the particles of dust traveling through the air.   
  
Luka didn't hesitate before going into her bedroom; since it was obvious she wasn't in any other room of the apartment. He found her on her bed, sound asleep. So he stood there for a moment, wallowing in trepidation, and even considered calling Kerry so that Abby could at least have a day in peace, away from patients, Carter, and even himself. But he knew she wouldn't appreciate his bearing. So he walked over to the right side of her bed, where she laid. She still slept despite the weight of his body sitting next to her laying form and lowering the bed even more. He was so relieved to find her here instead of in a hospital or an alley somewhere that he didn't even noticed a glass with a little clear liquid sitting on the night table next to him. He finally traced the form of her face with his fingers, trying to awaken her with tickles. She must have been really tired the night before, because she only wrinkled her nose.   
  
He laughed at that, and leaned in to her to rub his nose against hers, "Abby," he whispered softly, removing some of the hair from her face.   
  
Abby took a deep breath through her nose and only moaned.  
  
Luka sat back and stroked her arm, which was the only thing coming out of the covers of her bed. "Abby wake up, we're going to be late," he said, still in that soothing and sleepy voice.  
  
Abby heard that, and she opened her eyes slowly, only had to close them because the brightness hit her like thousands of needles. "Luka?" she moaned, still trying to open her eyes.  
  
Luka smiled, and felt a tingle in his stomach when he heard her say his name in such a state of vulnerability. Or maybe because the last person who had moaned his name like that, was his wife when he had to drag her out of bed to go to work. "Yeah," he replied.  
  
Abby finally opened her eyes and tried to focus on his face, which was even blurrier in contrast with the rest of her room. She tried to sit up, but winced in pain and brought her hand to her head when a bolt of pain traveled through her brain.   
  
Luka jumped back and lay her back on the bed, "What is it? Are you sick?" he asked her.  
  
Abby shook her head, "No," she mumbled and felt Luka's hand on her forehead, trying to get her temperature. If only he knew she was having the worst hangover of her life, it would change his way of thinking about her completely. She opened her eyes again and looked at him. "How did you get in?" she moaned, trying to get him to forget about her headache.  
  
"I used my set of keys," he said.  
  
Abby nodded, her eyes closed. "What time is it?" she asked, trying to find at her alarm clock with her hand, and knocking the glass to the floor.  
  
"7:30," Luka said as he picked up the glass and put it back on the night table. He liked to keep a glass of water next to him when he slept, so his reaction was involuntary. "We're on at 9."  
  
Abby let out a sigh of frustration. If she could only stay here all day, that would make such a difference in her life. So for now, she just kept rubbing her temples as an attempt to make the headache vanish.  
  
"I tried to call you last night, you didn't pick up the phone," Luka suddenly said, stroking her arm and looking down at her so that she wouldn't think he was accusing her of anything.  
  
Abby didn't move, "I, had a headache so I turned the ringer off," she said. That was half the truth, the other being that she was too drunk and the ringer sounded like a fucking fire truck siren. Of course, Luka might have called before she stumbled into her apartment at 3 am, in which case, she was lying completely. It didn't matter though. Abby had learned to be such a good liar when she began to drink, that she could probably accuse Kerry Weaver of stealing money from the hospital without proof and everyone would believe her.   
  
Luka felt something hard near his left buttock, and stood up to uncover Abby's body. "You slept with your clothes on?" he asked in a little awe, seeing how she hadn't even removed her shoes. If someone was to be chosen as the king or queen of getting ready for bed, it had to be Abby. So seeing her with her scrubs still on, and her black shoes not even unlaced, was quite a shock.   
  
Abby looked down at her body, "I guess I did," she said nonchalantly.   
  
Luka hovered over her with concern, and finally sat down on the beg again, this time even closer to her, with his right hand on the other side of her body, using it to lean on the bed. "Abby," he released with a sign, stroking her hand with his finger, "I know you must be, overwhelmed about everything that's happened. Let's take some time off. I can talk to Kerry and we can go somewhere, the Caribbean, or we can take a cruise," he suggested softly.   
  
That caught Abby off guard, and she was actually touched by his intentions. It was too much though. There was something about being at the bottom of the totem of society, which drew you to stay there. She knew how to move up, yet it was as if she didn't want to. There was something so delightful about self-pity, maybe masochism, she didn't know. But it was so much harder to go up than down, especially when every drop of determination has been drained out of your body.  
  
She looked down and played with his fingers. "Luka, I can't," she suddenly said, very softly and not knowing if she herself was talking about the trip or something else.  
  
Luka was disappointed by her answer, but didn't intend on showing his let down. There was something different about Abby now, and he couldn't quite figure out what it was. It was like having a word on the tip or your tongue, and then when someone finally tells you what it is, it was something completely different than what you thought it was, and didn't even sound the same. He noticed how tense her muscles were, and the big dark bags under her eyes. It made him want to do something about it, force her to relax, take her to a masseuse, even make her stay home.   
  
"I'm going to call Kerry," he snapped as he stood up, determined to reach the phone.  
  
"Luka, no," Abby said, standing up as well and ignoring her headache. She had a little difficulty finding her balance, and once up, she came down to the floor.  
  
Luka turned around in time to see her sit back against her bed. He let out a sigh and walked over, sitting down next to her. "Abby, If you're sick, or sad about something, please, I need you to tell me," he said, begging as if he was pleading for his life.   
  
Abby rested her head on her knees, "I'm not sad, Luka," she said a little firmly.  
  
Luka analyzed her, and then it hit him like a pie in the face at a carnival. He wondered how he hadn't noticed it before, and kicked himself mentally for not doing so. So he reached with his hand and cupped the sides of her face so that she could see him. "Abby, whatever it is I just want you to know that I wouldn't never leave you over it, or judge you. In fact, if you want me to stay away so you can have some time alone, I will. But, I really need you, I'm begging you, to tell me," he said, deciding to state this before asking the inevitable.  
  
She looked at him, and knew he wasn't kidding. Still, how was she going to tell him that she had fallen off the wagon the previous week? How was she going to tell someone who thought so highly of her that she was no different now from that homeless man who begged for a bottle of rum on the corner of the hospital. She just couldn't. It would destroy him and was sure to disgust him away, like it disgusted Richard.  
  
"I'm ok, Luka. I'm just having, a bad week, that's all," she finally said.  
  
Luka let out a sigh. He wished she would stop with this fucking denial crap. She didn't have to though because it all came to him. Her depression, her constant headaches, her silence, and her avoidance of him lately, he was, after all, a doctor. It was no surprise it had happened either, since he had been so careless with her lately.  
  
He gathered her hands in his and looked once more into her eyes. "Abby? Are you pregnant?" he asked, his voice low but determined.  
  
Abby looked at him at that, and let out a sigh of amazement. She looked away and removed her hands from his. "No, Luka. I'm not pregnant," she said with a mirthless chuckle and stood up, this time her legs didn't fail her.  
  
Luka looked at her as she did so. "Did you take a test?"  
  
"I'm not pregnant, Luka," she repeated, but this time it sounded more like a scolding.  
  
Luka truly didn't know how to react. Was he relieved or disappointed? It was actually too early in their relationship to be thinking that way. He was relieved because he didn't think Abby could handle a pregnancy at that very moment, but regretful because that meant the equation wasn't solved. At least that theory was ruled out though. So he just watched her as she took some of the clothes from her drawers, and popped two aspirins into her mouth, gulping them down with a glass of water, which seemed to have been there for days.  
  
Abby turned to him, "I'm gonna take a shower, I'll be out in a few minutes," she said and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of the shower began to travel through the apartment not long after that.  
  
-------------------  
  
The soft wind and small stubs of green leaves on the trees were an indication that Spring was almost here. That, of course, meant that the snow was gone, clearing the roads and inviting everyone to drive again. Luka loved walking in days like these. It gave him the time and peacefulness he needed to think about his life, and relax before walking into the insanity that was the ER. He had been sharing this ritual with Abby and it seemed to work for her too, because she was looking at all the blossoming foliage as they walked. But he couldn't help but feel the barrier between them. Holding her hand now was as hard as reaching into a wall of cement with your bare fingers. He was still holding it though, so he figured at least one of them was fighting for something, although it seemed unfair that they had to fight at all.  
  
He squeezed her hand and felt a squeeze back. It was during moments like these in which he kicked himself mentally for being so negative. She really had been having a bad week, he had been a witness of that. And even though the reason was yet to be determined, it seemed completely selfish of him to get upset over her having a bad few days, when he himself had 9 years. So he just decided to give her some space and hoped she came to him when she was willing to accept his offer of help.   
  
He noticed they were in front of the hospital, and decided to break the silence. "Do you want some breakfast?" he asked, bringing her back from her reverie, or her quiet self-torture.  
  
Abby looked pass him to Doc Magoo's. "Um, no, I'm just gonna go in," she said, taking her hand away from his.  
  
"Ok, I'm starving, so I'll see you in there," he said and gave her a peck on the lips.  
  
Abby smiled and walked towards the hospital, while Luka analyzed the back of her head.  
  
-----------------  
  
"Can anybody help me here? I've been waiting on those hard ass chairs for three hours!" a man said as he appeared out of nowhere in front of the front desk.  
  
Kerry looked up, and tried to keep her stare monotone above her glasses. "Take a sit sir, we'll call you in a second," she said in her best nonchalant tone.  
  
"That's what you said a million seconds ago," the man protested.  
  
Kerry let out a sigh and looked around. "Carter!" she exclaimed when she saw the young man round the corner.  
  
Carter raised his eyebrows as a response and approached her.  
  
"Why don't you take Mr....?" she looked at the man for help.  
  
"Font," the man said, still annoyed.  
  
"Mr. Font here and make sure he's seen upon," she said.  
  
Carter looked at Kerry, "Uh, I have two patients already," he said innocently.  
  
"I don't care, just get him out of my face," Kerry snapped and pushed Carter towards Mr. Font.  
  
Carter raised his eyebrows again, but in a slightly different context. "Why don't you come with me, Mr. Font?" he said as he guided the man away from the front desk.  
  
"You know, that's the reason why women shouldn't be in power, too much PMS," he said.  
  
Carter gave him a killer look, "Maybe Dr. Weaver would appreciate to hear that from your own mouth," he said.  
  
"Yeah, right," the man said, following Carter.  
  
Carter rolled his eyes and pushed the door to the suture room open. He walked in first, in time to see Abby resting her arms stiff on the small counter in front of the cabinet supply, her head hunched under her shoulders. She immediately turned around when she heard the door open.  
  
"Abby, are you ok?" Carter asked, noticing the fake smile on her face.  
  
Abby closed her eyes for a second and walked towards the door. "Yeah, great," she mumbled.  
  
"Hey, hold on," Carter snapped as he sat on the seat in front of Mr. Font. "Can you get me a suture kit?"  
  
Abby noticed the kits next to him and closed her eyes again, this time so he wouldn't see them roll. She walked over and began to set the tray. Doctors could be so useless sometimes.  
  
Carter grabbed the needle and looked at her, "Haven't seen you at the meetings for a while, do you wanna go together tonight?" he asked as he numbed Mr. Font's hand.  
  
Abby flinched her face, "You know, I'm kinda busy tonight, I'm sure Phil would more than love going with you," she said in a semi sarcastic tone and walked out of the room.  
  
Carter put the needle down and looked at Mr. Font, "I'll be right back."  
  
"Oh, come on!" the man protested, but was ignored by Carter.  
  
Carter walked out of the room and caught up with Abby, "Hey," he said and saw her turn around. "Abby, do you have a problem with me getting another sponsor?" he asked. "I know I didn't talk to you about it first, but I thought you only wanted to work with me temporarily."  
  
Abby looked to the side and played with her lips. "No, I don't have a problem, Carter. Like you said, it was temporary," she said with a small hint of regret.  
  
Carter put his hand on his pocket, "Is it something else?"  
  
"No, I'm just having a bad week, that's all," she replied with half a smile.  
  
"Do you wanna go somewhere later? Get some coffee?" Carter asked, a little concerned but determined.  
  
"Abby, we have a trauma coming in, let's get going," Kerry said as she limped near the scene.  
  
Abby turned around to see Kerry and some gurneys being rushed in. She looked at Carter again and shook her head, "No, I'll be ok," she said as she touched his arm and walked away.  
  
Carter just nodded and watched her walk away, with now both his hands on his pockets.   
  
"My hand is waking up!" a voice came from the suture room.  
  
Carter rolled his eyes and walked back into the room to finish with Mr. Font.  
  
Abby ran out to the ambulance bay and followed Kerry, since all of the other nurses seemed to be staying away from her today.  
  
"35 year old male, complains of abdominal pain, BP is 90/60, pulse 110," Doris said as she helped wheel the gurney in.  
  
"Alright," Kerry looked around, "Chen, I need you over here," she said as the young doctor walked by. "We got it from here, Doris."  
  
"Party on," Doris said sarcastically and walked away.  
  
"Ok, on my count, one, two, three," Kerry said. She looked around and realized Abby was the only nurse. "Abby, put him on an IV and hook him to the monitors," she said. "Sir, can you tell me what happened?" she asked the man, who was lucid.  
  
"Yeah, we were in a car accident, is my wife ok?" the man asked desperately.  
  
"We're gonna take good care of her, don't worry," Kerry said sweetly.  
  
"Pupils are equal and reactive," Chen said. "Abby, order a cat scan."  
  
Abby fumbled with the IV and looked up at Chen, "Coming up," she said.  
  
"Sir? Does is hurt when I do this?" Kerry said as she pressed the man's lower abdomen; he winced in pain. "Ok, Abby, order a pelvis scan while you're at it," she said.  
  
Abby was just beginning to hook the man to the monitors. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Ok," she mumbled. As soon as she finished, a couple of machines began to beep.  
  
"Whoa, let's get the pressure up," Chen said.  
  
"I need a lavage kit, now," Kerry called out to no one.  
  
Abby hung up the phone and began to look through the drawers for the kit, only her fingers were shaking and her mind wasn't working at all. Another machine began to beep even more loudly than the rest, and it was all she could hear over Kerry and Chen still shouting instructions. Abby finally reached into a drawer and found a kit. She turned around to give it to Kerry, only it stumbled on her hands and it fell down.  
  
"Alright, let's take him up to surgery," Kerry said, ignoring Abby, who was trying to collect all the items from the floor. "We already got a kit, Abby," Kerry said as she walked out. Somehow Lydia had suddenly and unexpectedly joined the picture, which might have explained the situation.  
  
Abby looked up at them as they rushed the man out, and stood there for a moment, letting out a sigh and closing her eyes as hard as she could. She finally stood up and threw the kit against the wall before stumbling out of the trauma room. Ignoring the turmoil around her, she walked into the lounge, where she opened her locker to take her bag out. Without even being noticed, she rushed into the bathroom and locked herself in one of the stalls. She sat on the toilet and her shaking fingers opened the bag, reached inside and finally they felt a cold bottle. She brought it up and opened it desperately, and drank the alcohol until it was nearly over, feeling that burning sensation on her throat. Her now controlled fingers scrolled the bottle, and she put it back on her bag before leaning her arms on her knees, and hunching forward.   
  
She felt the anger raising in her throat, and boiling the insides of her stomach. Before the first tear even came out, she wiped it from her eye, but couldn't catch the next one in time.   
  
"Stop it!" she whispered to herself. "Stop it, stop it, stop it," she continued as she rocked back and forth, but suddenly came to a halt when out of the blue, she stopped crying.   
  
This was what her life had come to, hiding from everyone so she could have a quick fix in the bathroom, at work. She knew if Kerry found her there, she would get fired in a nanosecond. She didn't care. Losing her job right now would probably be the best thing to ever happen to her. A hard fact hit her, and a flashback of those days in which she would bar hop all night looking for men who would buy her a drink came back to her. Was that any different from now? Probably not. Both scenes were equally disturbing, and they disgusted her to her very core.   
  
Funny how you think you're over something and then all of a sudden it comes back to haunt you. The most painful part of this though, it's that it was a door she had closed. She had gone to the meetings, helped others, stayed sober for five years, gotten her life back together, then boom. She thought hard, trying to see where she had left her shoe untied, what had caused her to fall again. So much for predictability.  
  
She let out a sigh, and ignoring the temptation of beating that door down to the ground, she unlocked it and walked out. Thankfully, there was no one else in there, and she walked to the sink to wash her face with cold water. The coldness and freshness of it made her feel a little better, but she jumped back when she raised her head and through the mirror, saw that she wasn't alone.  
  
She turned around to come face to face with Kerry, but she suddenly didn't know what to say.  
  
Kerry looked down, giving her the opportunity to shift on her other leg. "Abby, is everything ok?" she asked suddenly in that voice she used when she was concerned about one of her workers.  
  
Abby nodded, "Yeah," she said simply.  
  
"We, told you many times that we didn't need that lavage kit when you were looking for it, didn't you hear us?" she asked in the same tone.  
  
Abby looked to the side, and then at her, "I guess I didn't, I'm sorry," she said.  
  
"No need to apologize," Kerry said and analyzed her for a while. "How's your mom?" she suddenly asked.  
  
Abby looked at her suddenly, finding that question extremely off topic. "Uh, she's well. Um, I got her an apartment and she's taking her medication again," she said.  
  
"That's good," Kerry said with a smile.  
  
"Yeah," Abby reciprocated the smile.  
  
Kerry looked down and shifted on her leg again. "Look, Abby, if you need a couple of days off..."  
  
"I'm fine," Abby interrupted her.  
  
"I know," Kerry said understandingly. "I know you have a lot of people who depend on you," she began, looking at all angles to see how she would approach her. "Abby if you ever need someone to listen to whatever you have to say, you don't have to look very far," she finished softly.  
  
Abby looked at her for a moment, and then removed her stare. This wasn't the kind of speech she had been expecting, at least not from Kerry Weaver. A wave on the tone of her voice though, made her hesitate for a moment, and the idea of telling Kerry the truth was like a light at the end of the tunnel. Something pulled her back though. In her own paranoia, her mind tricked her into believing that Kerry would fire her if she knew about this. Not only had she gone back to being an alcoholic, but she was drinking at work, and thus endangering patients. When they found out about Carter, it was different. He had been working in the ER for years, and everyone had him in a holy pedestal, he was one loved man. Would they be supportive of her too? How many people could she name who would be at an intervention. Luka, Carter and now, maybe her boss, that's it. Still, she felt comforting warmth coming from Kerry Weaver, and she made a mental note to remember this in the future.  
  
She finally looked at the doctor, who had been expecting an answer, "Thanks Dr. Weaver," she whispered.  
  
Kerry smiled and stroked the young nurse's arm. "If you wanna go home, you can."  
  
Abby took a breath, "No, I'll be ok," she said with a genuine smile.  
  
"Alright," Kerry said. "Why don't you stick to minor cases for the rest of the day," she said and walked out of the room after seeing Abby nod.   
  
It wasn't long before Abby followed her.  
  
-------------------  
  
Luka finished getting ready to go to sleep, and laid next to Abby, who was watching some movie on the international channel. He looked at her curiously, "I didn't know you spoke Chinese," he said.  
  
Abby smiled and looked at him, "I don't."  
  
"Ah," Luka said. "What's going on?"  
  
Abby looked back at the television. "I think that woman is cheating on her husband," she said and then noticed something peculiar on the movie, "Oh, that's her brother, never mind," she said with a chuckle.  
  
Luka smiled at her good mood, took the remote from her hands, and turned off the television. He looked at her in a weird way.  
  
"What?" Abby asked.  
  
Luka leaned in and kissed her softly, leaning his hand on the side of her face. It wasn't long before he was on top of her, burning with a fire he had tried to extinguish for days now.  
  
Abby ran her hands through his hair, and felt the fire Luka was feeling, only hers was completely different. She needed a drink. She needed alcohol so badly, she couldn't even think of anything else, and it was making her fingers tremble again. Luka was now kissing her neck, working his way down, but she stopped him when he was kissing her collarbone.   
  
"Luka," she said all of a sudden.  
  
Luka had heard her call out his name while they were having sex before, so he ignored that and continued to kiss her.  
  
"Luka," Abby said a little more firmly, and Luka realized she wasn't just encouraging him to keep going. He looked up at her with a questioning look on his face.  
  
Abby sat up, making him move to the side. "I'm sorry, I just," she stammered. It was either stopping him now, or throwing up all over him later.  
  
"What?" Luka asked interrupting her.  
  
"I have to go," she said, standing up.  
  
"What?" Luka asked again, but this time incredulously. "Go where?"  
  
"Home," Abby simply said, looking for her purse.  
  
Luka let out a sigh and looked down, "Abby, I..."  
  
"Good night," Abby said and walked out of the room, without even letting him speak.  
  
Luka laid there, flabbergasted about her sudden outburst. Well, he knew one thing, whatever was wrong with her, it had to be about him. He knew her mother was ok, Carter had another sponsor, she was doing ok at work, she wasn't pregnant, what else is left? He could see the old: "Luka, we need to talk" speech coming from the horizon and knocking at his door. But before thinking about anything concerning his future with Abby, he needed to talk to Carter about something first.  
  
------------------  
  
  
"Well, six days in a row, I think we have a new record," the bartender said as he saw Abby walk into the bar.  
  
Abby wasn't that amused about that joke, so she decided to ignore him and sat on the same stool by the corner. The bartender poured the vodka into the glass and shoved it in front of her, watching as Abby gulped half of it down at once.  
  
"Having a bad day?" a strange man said as he sat next to her.  
  
Abby glanced his way with a look of everything but friendliness.  
  
"Didn't think so," the man said.  
  
The stool turned and Abby looked at him, "Sorry, I'm not in the mood for 'Opra's Spiritual Healing' right now," she said callously.  
  
The man smiled and looked to the other side of the bar. "Well you know what they say," he said and stopped there.  
  
Abby looked his way again, waiting for an answer, only he remained quiet. "What?"  
  
The man looked at her, "You know, about talking to strangers, how it can be good for venting?"  
  
Abby half nodded and looked down at her drink.   
  
"Kevin O'Brian," the man said as he showed Abby his hand for her to shake.  
  
Abby looked at him for a moment, "Look, uh, Kevin, I..."  
  
"Unless you wanna hear about how my wife is cheating on me with the 20 year old kid who delivers the groceries," he said.  
  
"Abby Lockhart," she said, extending her hand.  
  
"Nice to meet you," Kevin said. "Come here often?"  
  
"Lately, yeah," Abby said, playing with the glass in front of her.  
  
"Ditto," the man said. He motioned the bartender to fill Abby's glass again and then turned to her. "Let's see," he said as he analyzed her, "You are having problems with your mother, which are now affecting your job, and your boss is about to give you the axe."  
  
Abby looked his way and chuckled, "Well, some of that is true, but that's not the real problem now," she said.  
  
"Husband?" he asked.  
  
"No," Abby said with a dry smile. She finally gave up with a sigh and turned her face to him. "See, I have this problem, which is... very hard to solve. I mean, normally I fall down, then I get up and keep walking, but now I hit rock bottom so hard I can't even look at my boyfriend in the eyes, let alone talk to him or even be with him," she said, her smile vanished.  
  
"And this problem, is it another man?" he asked.  
  
Abby shook her head, "No." She thought for a moment, "Actually, I work in a hospital, and there was an accident last year. This psych patient attacked me and a med student, who died. It was a really hard recuperation, so I got addicted to painkillers," Abby said and paused to continue a couple of seconds later. "I had to go to Atlanta for three months, for detox, and now, something happened that made me go back to pain killers," she finished with a lump on her throat and the saddest tone she ever heard herself talk in.  
  
Kevin nodded his head, "What made you go back?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Just, different things building up and then exploding," Abby said. "Things seemed to be getting better when I had some people depending on me emotionally, but then they got all better, and that left my in mid air," she said.  
  
"Helping others so that you don't have to think about your own problems," the man said.  
  
Abby looked at him, that was exactly what had been under her nose and she had been too blind to see. "Actually, you're right," she said.  
  
"Yeah, I've been there," Kevin muttered.  
  
"You are there," Abby said, motioning to what he was doing at that very moment. Kevin looked at her, and realized this too. "Any kids?" Abby asked after a silence.  
  
"No," he said.  
  
"Why are you still married to her," Abby asked, drinking some more.  
  
"I love her," he responded sincerely.  
  
Abby smiled, "Well, I hope that works out well in your favor," she muttered.  
  
"We'll see." Kevin looked at his watch. "And I hope everything works out well with you too," he said. "It was very nice to meet you, Abby Lockhart," he said and shook her hand again.  
  
"You too Kevin," Abby said with a smile.  
  
Kevin smiled, "And, drink away, it's on me," he said and walked away.  
  
Abby let out a sigh and turned her stool to face the bar. The bartender came back and filled her glass to the top again, already aware of how much Abby could take, which was a lot.   
  
Abby didn't even thank him and just looked at the way her drink swirled when she moved it with her straw. She made a mental note not to come to this bar again, because her meeting with Kevin was something she wanted to keep a one timer.   
  
She thought of calling Luka and apologizing for being so blunt and awkward earlier, but first she had to think of an excuse for walking away from him like she did. That "I've been having a bad week" bit was getting a little old, although she could use it to say she was on PMS... thank God for the reproductive system. She knew he must have called her apartment to over saturation by now, but she wasn't quite ready to face him yet, let alone lying to him. So what the hell, Kevin was paying for all the drinks, so she might as well enjoy the free ride. There was always someone generous enough to put her on a cab at the end of the night, when she'd pass out on the counter of the bar.  
  
  
To be continued...  



	3. 24 Steps: Part 3

Disclaimer: See Part 1  
  
  
  
"24 Steps: Part 3" by Carolina  
  
  
"Hey, Carter," Luka called out and ran to the young doctor as soon as he saw him walk out of exam 3.  
  
Carter looked back to see who was calling him, and kept walking forward when he saw Luka approaching him. "What is it?" he asked as he took his gloves off.  
  
"Do you have a few minutes?" Luka asked as they walked towards the front desk, with his right hand on his pocket and tapping the wall as he strolled along.  
  
Carter looked around, "I think so, why?"  
  
Luka took a moment, and then turned to Carter, "Have you talked to Abby?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
Carter glanced his way and kept walking, "I talk to her everyday," he answered incompletely.  
  
Luka bit the inside of his lip, he hated this. "Is she ok?"  
  
Carter looked at him again, this time with a serious expression on his face. "Shouldn't you, of all people, know that?" he asked incredulously.   
  
It was no secret that him and Luka weren't on the best of terms. Luka had been jealous about Carter's friendship with Abby, and Carter had been apprehensive about her relationship with Luka, since they started on such instable ground. Everyday he walked into the hospital expecting Abby's announcement that her and Luka were history. Not that he wanted Abby for himself, but something about Luka didn't bode well with him, mostly the fact that he was so quiet and reserved. Carter felt like he should protect her, as though she were a little sister. However, this sudden concern on the Croat's part for Abby was a little comforting, although Carter wouldn't wallow in that idea for long.  
  
Luka scratched the back of his head only to deal with the blunt he had just received. Well, he should know, Carter was right, but only if Abby's problem wasn't about Luka. His only fear right now, though, was that Carter knew what was wrong with Abby and not him. That Abby had run to Carter instead of him. Luka hadn't been there for her before when she needed him, Carter had. The memory still made him lightheaded. Sometimes he wondered why people got second chances at all.  
  
Luka's emotions had been a little justified, by himself. He knew people in relationships always had friends on the side to talk about their beau's, he himself had a few while he was married. But this was different, Carter was a man. And even worse, he wasn't gay. He knew that he was being stupid when jealous, but even though he could trust Abby, that didn't mean that Carter couldn't make a move. Maybe he was being too traditional, or maybe Americans weren't traditional enough. He had tried his best to put it behind him, but it was still a small thorn stuck inside his heel.  
  
"I, uh, tried to talk to her but she said everything was ok," Luka finally said. "I don't think it is, so I figured she'd tell you," he took a breath to continue but for some reason just stopped there.  
  
Carter grabbed a chart and began to read it casually. This guy, he thought. Luka Kovac was a real character. "No, I'm sure she'd tell me if something was wrong," he said suggestively.  
  
Luka nodded and tapped his fingers on the counter as he looked at the chart Carter was reviewing. "Can you let me know if she tells you something, please?" he said hesitantly.  
  
Carter finished the chart and put it on the rack. "Don't worry, if she wanted you to know something I'm sure she'd tell you," he said bitterly and walked away. What was Luka so worried about anyway? Carter thought as he walked away. He had talked to Abby the past few days and she seemed fine, she even joked with him. Maybe this 'problem' she had was indeed about Luka. He couldn't wait to see her and ask.   
  
----------------  
  
"Frank?"  
  
A week later, Kerry Weaver limped out of nowhere and towards the front desk, in another one of her moods.   
  
"Frank!" she yelled again.  
  
Frank peeked his head through the front of the desk, "What?"   
  
"What the hell is this?" she asked as she held a bottle in her hand.  
  
"Looks like alcohol," Frank said innocently.   
  
"Looks like alcohol," Kerry repeated in a mock. "Thank you Frank, I bet you were an excellent detective," she said sarcastically. "Nothing escapes you."  
  
"What do you want *me* to do about it?" he asked.  
  
"I want you to send out a memo to every staff member reminding them to check every patient for cigarettes, drugs, or alcohol, and remind them it is not permitted inside the hospital," Kerry barked as she threw the bottle on the nearest trash can.  
  
"Coming right up," Frank said as he began to type something on the computer.  
  
Luka came out from the corner and sensing Kerry's bad mood tried to walk away, but not in time.  
  
"Luka!" Kerry called him.  
  
Luka let out a sigh, closed his eyes, and walked towards her. "Yeah?"  
  
"What is Mrs. Rodriguez still doing in exam 2?" she asked, looking at the board.  
  
"I'm still running some tests," Luka said shyly.  
  
"She came in with nausea, dizziness, and feeling tired. Did you run a pregnancy test?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, it was positive," said Luka, knowing where she was going with this. "I wanted to make sure everything was ok."  
  
"Give her some pre-natal vitamins and send her home, we're not a free clinic, unless you wanna pay for all those tests yourself," she scolded.  
  
Luka rolled her eyes without her looking, and walked towards the lounge.  
  
"Exam 2 is the other way, Luka," Kerry called out.  
  
Luka punched the door to the lounge carefully and walked towards exam 2. "Mrs. Rodriguez?" he asked as he walked in.  
  
"Yeah?" a young Hispanic woman looked up.  
  
"I got you some pre-natal vitamins, make sure you take them every day, and take some time off work, you need to relax more," he said as he scribbled something on the chart.  
  
"Can't I have an ultrasound?" the woman asked.  
  
Luka looked at her, she should have one, but he should keep his job, so he took out a pad from his pocket. "I'm going to make you an appointment with OB, there you can have a more thorough examination," he said.  
  
"Ok," the woman said, watching him write. "Can I go home now?"  
  
"Sure," Luka said and gave her all the papers. "And congratulations," he said with a smile.  
  
"Thank you," the woman said and watched him leave the room before she began to change into her clothes again.  
  
----------------  
  
Luka pushed the doors to the ER open and walked out, taking a load of fresh air with a sigh. The sun was out after two days of raining, and he leaned against the wall of the edifice, watching as people walked by. He wished Abby would have accepted his offer to go away for a while, because he himself was craving some time away from work. He figured he had called her with his thoughts, because all of a sudden she appeared next to him.  
  
"Hey," she smiled as she looked up at him.  
  
Luka smiled.  
  
"Weaver?" she asked and saw him nod. "That poor woman, she needs a vacation," she mumbled as she leaned on the wall next to him.  
  
Abby's gentleness towards Kerry surprised Luka, because she was usually the first person to complain about Kerry. But he decided to let it go. "Are you ok?" he asked her for some reason.  
  
Abby looked at him in a weird way, "Yeah, why?"  
  
Luka didn't know what to say next. Why was he asking her if she was ok? She was in a good mood, had been for the past week. Maybe that was it.   
  
He flinched his face, "No reason," he lied.  
  
Abby took her stare away from him and looked at the street.   
  
Luka looked down at her, and saw her face painted orange because the sun was going down, letting the moon come up. It was quite a view, and it made him smile. "Do you want to do something tonight?" he asked.  
  
Abby looked at him, "Like what?"  
  
"I don't know," Luka said. "Maybe go out for dinner? We haven't been together in a long time," he said hesitantly.  
  
Abby looked at him, and then away. "I don't know," she mumbled.  
  
Luka's face fell, "What don't you know?" he asked, annoyed.  
  
Abby let out a sigh, and knew where this was headed. She didn't know what to say, so she just shook her head and looked down.  
  
"What is your problem, Abby?" Luka asked accusingly. "You've been depressed for the past few weeks, and then all of a sudden you're fine but when I want to be with you, you run away or make up a lame excuse," he barked.  
  
"That's not true," Abby suddenly looked up at him.  
  
"No, not from your point of view it isn't. You're the one running away, I'm the one who has to have a relationship with the back of your head," he raged.  
  
Abby scratched her forehead.  
  
"Do you want me to leave you alone? Do you wanna break up?" Luka asked.  
  
"No!" Abby snapped.  
  
"Then what is it? Because I can't go on going to bed every night, trying to come up with an explanation as to why you're being so bitchy," he shouted.  
  
Low punch. Abby, kept looking down, and then began to walk away.  
  
Luka reacted in a snap, "No, don't walk away from me," he said and turned her around with his arm.  
  
Abby stopped and looked up at him.  
  
Luka looked at her and then around, "You don't want to break up, but then when I'm around, you don't seem to want a relationship at all," he tried to explain how absurd the situation was.  
  
Abby finally took a breath to talk. "I don't know, Luka. Stop asking me all this questions because I don't know what to say," she started slowly but then ended firmly.  
  
Luka let out a sigh, and looked away. "Take all the time you need to make up your mind," he said callously and walked away.   
  
Abby didn't watched him go because she was looking down at the ground, feeling as she had been legitimately chastised. The doors to the ER opened again, and she looked up, hopeful, but it was just Carter.  
  
He saw her standing in the middle of the ambulance bay and walked up to her. "What's wrong?" he asked, having watched Luka stomp into the ER.  
  
"Nothing, apparently," she said.  
  
"Wanna have some coffee?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
Abby didn't even look at him, and was already used to hear those words. "Sure," she mumbled and they walked towards Doc Magoo's.  
  
----------------  
  
Luka opened the door to his room and closed it again with a little too much energy, and heard the echo travel down the hall. This day seemed to have had a curse. Things had started out bad and were getting worse. He was glad he was finally home (if he could call this little room that), and that nothing could go wrong here. Turning on the television, he began to look for that news channel. They seemed to change that damn programming every week, and he was stuck trying to figure out his way through the channels. He finally found it, but he wasn't interested in politics, so he just concentrated on the pretty woman reading the news.  
  
He heard a soft knock on his door and quickly turned off the television. "Who is it?" he asked. He never had any company, except for the manager telling him there was an emergency downstairs and they needed his help, so asking who it was sometimes really unnecessary. It was still a habit.  
  
"It's me."  
  
He immediately recognized Abby's voice, and suddenly remembered that she was the only person who ever really stopped by. The memory of their earlier fight came in a flashback, although he wasn't certain about what she was doing here now.   
  
He opened the door slowly, and saw her standing there with her head down, like a kid waiting to be scolded. She held a bag on her hand, and that black purse/bag she always carried hanging from her shoulder.  
  
She raised her head when Luka opened the door, not quite knowing what to say, of better yet, how to say it.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said after a pause. That was probably the best way she could communicate the way she felt, and it was quite descriptive.  
  
Luka opened the door fully and motioned her to walk in, which she did with a little hesitation. Abby hated this room. It was so small, it forced them to deal with whatever feelings they were having at the moment. There was no place to hide, no other rooms to escape to, not even dropping your head could divert the other person from whatever was happening inside you. The only way she could avoid him was by locking herself in the bathroom, but like every hotel room, this one was extremely cold, and the bathroom was probably the coldest corner of all. She had never been one for confrontations, unless she started the coupe, and this place was like a boxing ring. Needless to say, she always made sure they were somewhere else when she sensed a fight coming along.  
  
She finally let out a sigh, and Luka, as usual, sat on his bed to face her. "I know I've been a little out there for the past few days..."   
  
"Weeks," Luka interrupted her.  
  
Abby looked at him and scratched her forehead, "Weeks," she repeated. She took a deep breath and took a step forward, "I'm sorry, it's just... all this about my mother, and my tuition, and just everything is sort of starting to get to me now," she said miserably.  
  
Luka let out a sigh and took her hand, forcing her to sit next to him. "I kinda figured," he said and put his arm around her. "Why didn't you tell me that? I could have gotten us some time off, or if you needed some time I could have arranged something with Kerry," he said.  
  
Abby pressed her lips together, "I guess I just wanted to solve my own problems in my own way, that didn't work out very well," she said very honestly, although Luka didn't know what she was referring to.  
  
Luka kissed the top of her head, "Do you still want to go away?"  
  
Abby stood up, "No, I'm sure everything will get sorted out," she said and pasted a smile on her face. As if she had just been reminded something, she looked down at the bag on her hand. "Oh, I made you some food. I figured if you didn't forgive me, you might at least eat some of my lasagna for the last time," she said with a smile.  
  
Luka laughed, "Thanks," he took the bag and took a breath of that wonderful marinara sauce she made. He looked up at her, "Do you want to have dinner with me?" he asked.  
  
Abby flinched her face, "No, I better go," she said and pointed to the door.  
  
"Did you eat something?" he asked.  
  
"No, my stomach hasn't been behaving in a while," she said with a smile.   
  
"Are you sure?" Luka asked. "You shouldn't go to bed without having dinner."  
  
Abby shook her head, glancing at the floor, "I have to run a lot of errands tomorrow," she lied.   
  
Luka nodded, "Ok," he said casually although he was a little disappointed, but he wasn't going to get into that again. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," Abby said. She smiled when he walked over and hugged her tight to give her a kiss. She often forgot that Luka could also be very affectionate, something only she knew about, and was the one thing among many she would miss when he set her off because of her alcoholism.  
  
"Night," Abby said as she opened the door, and saw his bright smile before closing it again.   
  
Leaning against the door, she let out another sigh. Looking at Luka in the eyes had been so hard since she started drinking again. Well, looking at everyone was. But for some reason, she couldn't hold his stare for long. Probably because he was the only person who knew about her alcoholism who wasn't an addict himself. Sometimes she urged to run to him and tell him what had happened. But that uncertainty about how he would react would pull her back and smash her against the wall. Luka could be very moral at times, although he rarely judged people. Still, she knew his views on society, and drunks didn't hold a high standard on these.  
  
Finally, she let go of the knob of his door and walked away. Errands, what a load of bullshit.  
  
----------------  
  
Luka was awoken in the middle of God knows what hour by the phone ringing. Something about hotel telephones made you want to grab them by the chord and throw it out the window. Not only were they incredibly noisy and nearly impossible to figure out, but the calls were rarely welcomed.  
  
"Hello?" he moaned into it.  
  
"Dr. Kovac?" a man said from the other line. "We need your assistance down here."  
  
Luka rolled his eyes. He couldn't get one night of peace without these people calling for medical 'assistance'. Haven't they ever heard of 911? He made a mental note to start looking for apartments as soon as possible.   
  
"What is it?" he asked as he began to get dressed.  
  
"Someone got drunk at the bar, we can barely feel her pulse," the man said.  
  
Perfect. A drunk. "I'll be right there," Luka said and hung up the phone. He gathered his first aid kit and walked out of his room unwillingly.   
  
As the elevator went down he looked at his watch, 3:46 am. Luckily he had the night shift the next day, or that night for that matter. With a ding, the elevator doors opened and Luka stepped out. He didn't have to think much about where the bar was, since he had spent many lonely nights sulking in depression with a glass of whiskey there. The hotel was empty though, except for the few who would spend sleepless nights walking around or reading in the lobby.   
  
He walked through the archway of the bar and immediately spotted some people circling around whom he presumed was the patient, like vultures waiting for a prey to die.  
  
The manager saw Luka and walked towards him. "Dr. Kovac, sorry to bother you at this hour," the man said apologetically.  
  
"What happened?" Luka asked, still sleepy.  
  
"Nothing much," the man said as he guided Luka towards the counter. "Someone had a little too much to drink."  
  
Luka glanced the man's way and then tried to make it through some people still in the way.  
  
"Alright, alright, let the doctor do his job," the manager said as he cleared the way.  
  
A curtain of people opened, and once his eyes sent the brain the information in front of him, and it registered it, Luka stopped in his tracks, shocked. He knew that brown hair which cascaded on an extended arm a little too well. His heart skipped more than a couple of beats, and he still just stood there, flabbergasted, but mostly scared. His first impression was that someone had attacked her, or shot her, anything but the actual reason why he had been called. Denial is the first step, and it was holding on to him like a monkey to a branch.  
  
"Dr. Kovac?" the manager asked, trying to bring him back to reality.  
  
Luka removed his stare from Abby and looked at the manager, "Yeah," he said and looked at the first aid kit on his hand. He knew he wouldn't put much use to it, so he just set it down on the floor. Hesitantly, he walked over to do something, but suddenly his medical training had gone down the toilet. Her head was pressed against her arm, which was on the counter, and she appeared everything but alive.   
  
"Shouldn't you take her pulse?" the bartender asked from the other side of the counter.  
  
Luka looked at him, and walked over until he was next to Abby's form. Carefully, he laid her upper body back, and put his arms under her legs and lower back to carry her. Her entire body was limp, so he made sure her head wasn't hanging down, but safe against the molding of his neck and shoulder.  
  
All the previous curious members of the audience were still looking at the scene, and it seemed like they didn't have the intention to leave any time soon.  
  
Luka looked at them as he held Abby's unconscious body in his arms, and knew that he looked even more ignorant about what to do than any one of them. In a way he was. How many times had he dealt with drunks who would be thrown into the ER? Every night. They were brought in, Luka would find them a bed, and then let them sober up only to send them on their marry way the next day. This was different though. This was someone he cared about. The next day, he wouldn't have to send her off, he would have to be there and confront her. He would have to talk about this with her. He would have to fetch her an aspirin and a glass of water for her hangover. He would have to do something about this little problem of hers, which was now his problem as well.   
  
He turned to the bartender, feeling he had been standing there unnecessarily forever. "Thanks for letting me know," he said, his voice hoarse and almost trembling.   
  
"No problem. We deal with drunks like these every night," the man said.  
  
"She's not a drunk!" Luka snapped, and immediately felt some people jump back. He figured they didn't know who Abby was, he never took her to a bar after he found out about her alcoholism. He didn't care about this people though, or about what they might say. The only thing he cared about right now was making his stomach bang against his skin, and so he walked away from the scene of the crime, leaving everyone with questions in their minds.   
  
This was too much. It was suddenly worse than the idea of her planning to break up with him, or her being pregnant, or her going through a really bad depression. This was what he hadn't wanted to think about the last few weeks. As plausible as it had been, he hadn't dared to jump to that conclusion. Admitting that Abby might have fallen off the wagon, was like losing all faith in her, like thinking less of her. Actually, looking back to the last few weeks, even a five year old could have figured it out. Yet neither him nor Carter had. As much as he thought about her sudden change, it never entered his mind. He had spent sleepless hours thinking about what he would do if she was pregnant, or breaking up with him, or even clinically depressed. All of those three options had easy answers, this one didn't. What do you do when someone loses a game like that. He was sure not even Hallmark sold cards for these occasions. And he still had to face her in the morning.  
  
As he rounded the corner and brought her up so that his finger could press the elevator button, he shut his mind off and only thought of her safety at that moment. Her pulse was actually stable, despite what they had said through the phone before. Her breathing was a little unusual, but he knew it was because of the alcohol, and it would be normal again after a couple of hours. Something suddenly came to him and it worried him even more; she hadn't eaten anything that night. If she had, he would wake her up and get her to throw up, and that would spare him from having to wait until the morning came. He could give her a little ipecac, but aside the fact that he didn't have any, he was too scared to wake her up now. He wasn't ready to face her, and although he probably wouldn't be ready to face her the next morning either, at least he would have a little time to think about what to say.  
  
What to say.  
  
That was the part where Abby was good at. He thought of calling Carter, since he knew what Abby was going through. But Luka didn't want to. He wanted to deal with this by himself. Abby was his girlfriend, not Carter's. If someone has to be there when she wakes up, it was him. Even if he said all the wrong things, it was him who would be doing the talking.   
  
He looked at her face, which was resting on his collarbone. She actually seemed dead, and if it wasn't for her shallow breathing, he would have called 911 a long time ago. She hadn't moved when he picked her up, she hadn't even made a sound. The lighting numbers on the elevators seemed to take hours and if it wasn't for his current state of mind, he would have felt his muscles burning because of her weight. His eyes closed and he let out a sigh. For some reason, he lowered his head and kissed her forehead, as to reassure her that everything would be ok, even when she couldn't even feel a meteor if it hit the earth right now.   
  
The elevator doors finally opened and he walked down the hall until he came face to face with his door. He held Abby in a way that could allow him to get his keys from his pocket and open the door. Despite common sense telling him he should put his medical training to work, he couldn't get out of that 'boyfriend' mode, so he just walked over and laid her on his bed. After making sure she was tucked in, he grabbed a chair and set it on the bed in front of her. He knew he couldn't possibly sleep thinking she was drunk next to him and even if he did, he wanted to be there whenever she'd wake up.   
  
Resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands, he leaned forward and watched her stomach raise and fall as she breathed. There was an awful silence in the room which permitted his mind to wander to dangerous territory. He needed to know what had caused this. If he knew, he could try to find a way to fix it, as far fetched as that was. She was wearing the same clothes he had seen her in before when she was there, so he figured she went straight to the bar. It made him wonder about her visit. Was she really being honest when she said she was sorry? Has she been pretending the last week everything was ok to get him off her back? Was this maybe the first night she had gotten drunk? He could feel a headache coming up, and yet he couldn't stop his mind from thinking, since it was all he could do right now.   
  
His brain finally registered what had happened, and he finally reacted to the situation. Abby was drunk. She had been sober for five years and now she wasn't anymore. He closed his eyes, and without even feeling it, a tear traveled down his cheek. She looked so lost and as thought she had been attacked and worn out. He thought of doing something, getting her off her clothes, or washing her face. But the fear of breaking her scared him, so he decided not to touch her. There was a sob, and he figured it was his, because she was sleeping quietly.  
  
Something inside of him made him get off his feet, and he ran towards the bathroom to lock himself in. He felt his stomach spinning around inside, and could feel the vomit rising on his throat. But he didn't throw up. He closed his eyes and sat down next to the toilet. Resting his head back, he took a deep breath and tried to relax, or get his breathing back to normal, although he couldn't tell the difference between normal and abnormal anymore. All he could think was the person laying on his bed.  
  
Tomorrow morning he couldn't send her on her merry way. Tomorrow morning, he would have to sit down with her and talk about this, whether she wanted or not.   
  
  
To be continued...  



	4. 24 Steps: Part 4

"24 Steps: Part 4" by Carolina  
  
  
There were many colors dancing friendly yet sometimes frightfully in front of Abby's eyes. She had this dream often, and she assumed it was just a surreal memory of that mural she painted with her mother when she was a girl on the living room. It started out with her staring at the painting, until the blue and the yellow began to tango around; the green waltzed; the red and purple spun around in different patterns. It was like a Van Gough in motion, only her mother and her hadn't been as professional, and the painting was just a landscape. It always ended, though, when a mantel of black would fall over the colors, leaving nothing but darkness in front of her.   
  
The ride from unconsciousness to lucidity was always quick and uneventful. This time, though, before she opened her eyes, her nose detected a different smell. It wasn't her apartment, but somewhere else she couldn't quite place, and she sensed some danger ahead. Maybe someone had called 911? Maybe she was in the ER? Maybe she was on a stranger's bed. This didn't stop her from waking up though, something maybe she shouldn't have done.  
  
Where ever she was, it was bright and very quiet. She knew she had been drunk the night before; a) Abby was never the kind of drunk who would forget things, and b) she had been drunk now every night for a long time.   
  
Her eyes fluttered open, and before she even moved, she looked around the room, as the blurriness became more and more soft. Then that energy. The feeling she wasn't alone. Sure enough, when she looked in front of her, there was Luka, looking at her as if she was a science experiment, with his elbows still resting on his knees and cupping his face with his own hands.   
  
Confusion set in, although it could have been mistaken with fright. Did he know? Was he aware of what had happened? How did she get up here? She knew the answer to those questions would come awfully soon, and she wished she had the ability to disappear, or at least turn back time.  
  
Luka saw her open her eyes and only after a while, he let out a sigh and sat back. He had been waiting for her to wake up for God knows how long, and now that she had, he wished she would drift back. Her face looked turbid, and as much as he hated the idea, he knew it was up to him to say something. His speech was still not ready though.  
  
"Morning," he mumbled as everything but a happy greeting.  
  
Abby felt an incredible urge to stretch her body, but she feared any movement would cause Luka to pin her to the ground and put the handcuffs on her. Well, enough with that bullshit. If they were going to get it on, now would be a good a time as any. Vaguely.  
  
"What happened?" Abby sort of moaned, not able to look at his face, because she had it photographed in her mind already.  
  
Luka tried to sit back even further, but his back was completely against the back of the chair, so he decided not to move at all. He looked down at her covered legs, at his fingers, and then at her lowered head.  
  
"The manager called me last night," he sort of moaned as well, feeling as though he didn't need to go any further.  
  
Abby felt disgusted with herself, yet again. "Luka..."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" Luka asked, interrupting her, in a tone of anger but mostly hurt.   
  
A sarcastic and depressed smile appeared on Abby's face, and she looked at him for the first time. "What's there to tell?" she whispered, and swallowed hard to try and make that lump on her throat disappear. It didn't work.  
  
"How long?" Luka asked, trying to ask all the questions in order of importance, or at least that's how they seemed to pop into his head.  
  
Abby played with her fingers as she looked at them, "I don't know," she said. "Weeks," she whispered.  
  
Luka closed his eyes in disappointment, anger, sadness, denial, pity; all the negative emotions he could get his hands on. Now he didn't know what to say. He had planned on asking her all kinds of questions until his curiosity was satisfied, and a verdict could be passed. But now, that look on her face of a child being scolded, and that trembling voice of hers, drew him back and all he felt like doing now was supporting her.   
  
There was a long silence in which Luka tried to come up with something more to say. But he also had a lump on his throat; that and the dense air was making it difficult to breathe.  
  
"I don't know how it happened..."  
  
He directed his attention to her again as she decided to answer all his unspoken questions.  
  
"Or why. But I don't think that matters much," Abby moaned. She took a deep breath and continued. "I thought I could keep it under control, if I only drank once. But then the second night came along, and I couldn't sleep. Then the third night I don't even know how I got to the bar."  
  
She felt her eyes stinging as if she was diving at sea without a mask on, but tried to control the tears. Her eyes were moist though. "I can't stop, Luka," she moaned.  
  
Luka's heart sank at that, and he moved closer to sit on the bed and take her hand.  
  
"I drink everyday. Sometimes when you're not looking I take some bottles of your mini bar and then I pay them downstairs so you won't get the bill." A tear rolled down her eye at that, but her voice remained somewhat strong.   
  
"I go to a different bar every night hoping I won't bump into anyone from the hospital. I drink during the day and even in the mornings," she whimpered.  
  
Luka closed his eyes and let out another sigh of disappointment, even though he tried his best to look strong in front of her. He looked at their hands and played with her fingers. "Do you drink at work?" he asked cautiously and almost inaudible.  
  
Abby still looked down, and yet another tear jumped from her eye. "I can't function well if I don't," she said.  
  
Luka's heart stopped. This was bad, really bad. If someone found out about this, she could lose her job along with Kerry's. He wondered if she had endangered a patient or two, and he suddenly remembered all those times he had worked with her. "How come no one noticed?" he asked.  
  
"It's Vodka," Abby said. "Doesn't smell."  
  
"How come I didn't notice?" he asked, knowing it was a question he should ask himself and not her.  
  
"I don't know," Abby said sincerely. She took a deep breath, "But it's not your fault," she tried to reassure him.  
  
"Like hell it isn't!" he yelled and sprung form his bed, immediately beginning to pace around the room.  
  
Abby took that as a cue to escape, but she just uncovered her body and sat on the bed, hanging her head under her shoulders and breathing tense air.  
  
Luka suddenly came over and knelt in front of her, "Abby, you have to stop," he asked desperately.  
  
Abby let out a mirthless laugh, "It's not that easy."  
  
"No," Luka gathered her hands in his, "I'll help you. And we'll go to AA meetings together, and... I'll call Carter, if you want to talk to someone, he can help you," he finished.  
  
Abby shook her head and stood up from her bed. "It's not that easy, Luka," she repeated. "If someone finds out I can get fired," she said, looking for her purse everywhere. "And you can get fired for knowing so just forget what I just told you," she added.  
  
"What?" Luka asked incredulously. "I don't care about losing jobs, Abby, you have a problem and we have to solve it," he said.  
  
"No, *I* have a problem, and *I* have to solve it," she said, still looking for her purse.  
  
Luka looked at her as she moved around the room. "A minute ago you were crying because you can't stop drinking and now you don't even care?" he asked in awe.  
  
Abby ignored him and just kept looking for her bag.  
  
"I'm not letting you walk out of here," he said firmly.  
  
Abby turned around at that, "What?"  
  
Luka gave her a knowing look, "You heard me," he said.  
  
Abby let out a mirthless chuckle, she finally found her purse under the covers and turned to him, "What are you, doing a detox in here?" she asked incredulously.   
  
"If I have to, yeah," Luka said.  
  
Abby shook her head again, "That's ridiculous," she muttered.   
  
Luka knew she was probably right, but he had to do something to make her realize she was not alone in this, and that she had his support. He went over to his cupboard and grabbed the keys to his car, along with a bag he had made earlier.  
  
Abby watched all this with weary eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked.  
  
Luka looked up at her, "You don't mind if I stay over in your place for a couple of days, right?" he said.  
  
Abby wrinkled her forehead but didn't have time to protest, because the next thing she knew Luka had grabbed her arm and was dragging her out of the room.  
  
--------------  
  
Abby unlocked the door to her apartment and threw the keys on the small dish on a table near the door. She felt like she had been followed by the police home, and was now getting arrested. Luka's car had been following hers so closely, she was scared he was going to slam into her at one point.   
  
He walked in a couple of minutes after she did. As if it was his home, he walked into her bedroom and put his clothes on her drawers. Looking around her room to see if there was any alcohol around, and determined to throw any away.  
  
Abby sat on her couch and buried her head on her hands. She couldn't deal with Luka like this, not sober. He hadn't said anything to her since they left his hotel room, and now he was walking around like a fucking rooster on a henhouse. She knew he was disappointed, but right now he was just acting like a cop. She wished that for once he could just put all this macho thing aside and just deal with his real emotions as they came.  
  
He came out of her room with two bottles of Vodka and walked into the kitchen to look through the cupboards and cabinets.  
  
"What are you doing?" Abby muttered without taking her head away from her hands.  
  
Luka gathered a couple more bottles from the counter and from under the sink and put them on a plastic bag.  
  
Abby looked up at him and shook her head. Screaming at him or hitting him was not going to do her any better, she knew how stubborn he was, almost as stubborn as her, and her pounding headache was sure to make her say something she would regret.  
  
"Come with me," Luka suddenly said.  
  
Abby looked up at him for the first time, her hair all over her face and her eyes tired. She didn't move. This was her house and he couldn't order her to do anything in here. Plus her legs had gone on vacation and her arms were only moving because she had to keep her face buried.  
  
Luka waited for her to stand up, but since she didn't move, he went over and grabbed her hand, pulling her up rather abruptly. He opened the door and stepped out with Abby by her hand, and walked down the hall until they were face to face with the garbage shoot. He reached into the bag he was holding and opened the first bottle, and watched as the liquid traveled down the metal plank of the shoot.  
  
Abby shook her head and looked away. "What are you doing?" she sort of moaned and whimpered as if she was about to cry.   
  
Luka ignored her and continued to pour the alcohol down the shoot, forcing her to watch, and once the bottle was empty he did the same with another one. He knew he was torturing her, the way she was pacing around and shaking next to him was a sign of withdrawals. He didn't know why he was doing this himself, pouring the drink down the shoot. Maybe it was to show her that the drink was off limits, or maybe he didn't trust her enough, and deep inside thought she could sneak out of the apartment to dig the bottles out of the trash. Mostly, though, he just hated the alcohol at that moment, and its slow death was somehow making him feel better.  
  
She tried to walk away, but he held her hand so that she couldn't. Abby leaned her back against the wall next to the shoot and sat down on the floor as Luka continued to get rid of her drinks. God she needed a drink. She didn't even know what time it was, but she needed one. Not only was this a stressful situation, but it was utterly embarrassing, and she just couldn't deal with it. Her mouth was dry and she was beginning to sweat a little, and she knew that was just the beginning.   
  
'Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it,' she chastised herself, but it didn't work much. Luka was still holding her left hand, so she could only bury her face on her right and the gap between her cuddled knees. How she did this the first time, she had no idea.  
  
"Get up," Luka said. He could have easily pulled her up by her hand, but he knew she had to take the first steps, and he wasn't going to go easy on her.  
  
Abby kept rubbing her face with her hand. "I need a drink," she mumbled and was sure he didn't hear her because she could barely hear herself.  
  
"You'll get a drink," Luka said. "Come on, get up," he added. "Everyone's starting to look at you funny," he said, even though there was just one person passing by, and looking at Abby.  
  
Abby used Luka's hand to pull herself up, she never knew she was so heavy. He walked her back into her apartment and closed the door. Abby sat on the couch again and hugged one of her pillows, praying that she could at least fall asleep, but her mind was spinning around everywhere.   
  
Luka came back with a glass of juice and gave it to Abby, who looked at it like it was soylent green. "You needed a drink," he said casually.  
  
Abby looked at him with a hate she didn't know she had, and had the uncontrollable urge to take the drink and throw it all over his face. But her mouth was incredibly dry, so she took a small sip of the lemonade and put it on the table in front of her. Luka walked back into her bedroom and she just laid back on her couch, turned on the television and immediately tuned in to the Cartoon Network. Cartoons always made sense when you were either on drugs or in pain.   
  
After a while, Luka came back out, although to Abby it seemed like seconds. He shook his head when he saw her watching the Smurfs, but figured that would help her stay under control and a little relaxed, maybe it was the color blue mixed with white. He went over and put a blanket over her, then walked to the front side of the couch and sat on the floor next to her head, which was still pointing at the television.   
  
"I called Weaver and told her you were sick, you don't have to go to work for a while," he said and waited for her to thunder him about making her decisions, but she didn't even move.   
  
He looked back and grabbed her face so she could look at him. "I have to go do something important, if I leave you alone here, can you promise me that you won't go out or drink anything?" he asked and stressed every word.  
  
Abby nodded lightly, but maybe it was just her head shaking. "Can you bring me some ice cream," she whispered, since his face was right in front of hers.  
  
Luka smiled for the first time that day, but maybe it was at her childish demeanor. "What kind?" he asked.  
  
"Cookies and cream," Abby muttered.  
  
"Ok," Luka said. He grabbed her face and kissed her on the lips, and stood up to try and find his keys, which he had remembered putting on his pockets. He grabbed her own keys from the dish next to the door and took them with him. He knew Abby had promised not to sneak out and drink, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't trust her right now.  
  
-------------  
  
Luka clutched a piece of paper on his hand after reading it now nearly ten times and looked at the different buildings in front of him. He finally found the number of the particular one he was looking for and walked in. Thanking God it didn't have a security guard or an intercom, he walked directly into the elevator and pressed the number 3. Glancing the numbers as they lit up above him, he closed his eyes for a moment, thinking what he was going to say. He didn't have much time though, as a small ding chirped and the doors opened.   
  
He walked down the hall, looking at all the numbers on the doors of the different apartments, until he finally came face to face with the one he was looking for. 315. He knocked on the door once lightly, but then the second and third knocks were a little more confident. A voice form the other side informed him he would be greeted in "Just a moment," and Luka stood, there, looking at his own shoes.  
  
Finally, the door opened slightly, and Luka raised his head to see Carter there, surprised about Luka's presence.  
  
"Hey," Carter greeted, but it was more like a question.  
  
Luka's face remained in blank, "Can I come in?"  
  
Carter raised his eyebrows, confused. "Sure," he said and opened the door fully. He followed Luka in, who stopped in the middle of the living room, and stood in front of him, trying to figure out why the man was here. "Um, do you want anything to drink? Or?" he motioned with his hands.  
  
Luka didn't even look around the room to inspect Carter's new apartment, but remained still with his hands on his pockets. "No, I'm fine," Luka muttered.  
  
"Ok," Carter said with a nod. "Is everything ok?" he asked finally, because Luka was already scaring him.  
  
Luka looked down and then at Carter's face. "Abby got drunk last night," he finally muttered.  
  
It took a moment for Carter to sink this in, and once he did, he still didn't believe it. "What?" he asked in awe.  
  
Luka just nodded, the expression on his face as serious as ever.  
  
Carter shifted on his feet. "Are you sure?"  
  
"I found her on the bar of my hotel last night," Luka muttered.  
  
Carter looked back to make sure there was a couch behind him and sat down. He put his elbows on his knees and stared straight forward. There was one question in his mind, well, many actually, and he looked up at Luka, "Was that the first time?"  
  
Luka looked down at his peer, "No, it's, uh, been weeks... she says," he said.   
  
Carter kept staring at the floor, and rubbed his chin with his hand. He didn't know what to do or what to think, his mind was still numbed after the blunt. He only felt when Luka sat on the couch next to him.  
  
"I don't know what to do," Luka said miserably. "I know you are her friend, and you went to those AA meetings together."  
  
Carter stood up, ignoring Luka. "Where is she?"  
  
"In her apartment," Luka said and stood up after Carter, who was now putting on his jacket and trying to find his keys. He suddenly reacted to what was happening, "I don't think she needs to see anyone at the moment, I just wanted your advice."  
  
Carter ignored Luka again, and finally found his keys. "I have to talk to her," Carter said and opened the door to stand under the frame, signaling Luka to leave.  
  
With a sigh, Luka finally gave up and followed Carter out, who closed the door behind him.  
  
--------------  
  
Luka unlocked the door to Abby's apartment and threw the keys on the dish, only they hit the table and fell to the floor. The keys dish was on the floor, broken, and he realized Abby had tried to go out.   
  
"Where is she?" Carter asked as he walked in after Luka.   
  
Luka looked around and didn't see Abby on the couch, so he assumed she was on her bedroom. He pointed down the hall and walked into the kitchen to put the 4 tubs of cookies and cream ice cream on the freezer.  
  
Carter walked down the hall and walked into the bathroom, but Abby wasn't there so he kept walking. He opened the door to her bedroom and she wasn't on the bed, but sitting on the floor with her back to the wall. She looked like she was asleep, but Carter knew she wasn't, he was way too familiar with that position. What the hell was Luka doing? He could get in a lot of trouble for doing something like this. Carter suddenly remembered how he had tried to detox his cousin.  
  
This scene destroyed him though. This was Abby in trouble, not him or her mother or Luka. He had never seen her as much as trembling since he had met her, and it scared him now that she was the one at the bottom.  
  
"Hi, Abby," he said as if it was just another day. He knew the last thing she wanted right not was visitors, but he couldn't just turn his back on her right now.  
  
Abby looked up barely and smiled weakly at Carter, who was still looking down at her. "He told you," she said, her voice hoarse.  
  
Carter nodded and walked over to sit next to her on the floor, "Yeah," he said.  
  
Abby watched him for a moment, as he sat down and took her hand to kiss it lightly.   
  
"Abby if you were having problems, why didn't you come to me?" he asked softly.  
  
The question everyone had been asking for a long time. How easy it is to say 'You can come to me no matter what' but actually mean it. She knew he did, but that hadn't given her the courage to talk. "I... thought I could handle it myself," she said, her mouth still dry and her throat raspy. She took a deep breath and looked at Carter more intensely now. "Can you get me out of here? Please, I don't wanna be here, I need a drink," she pleaded.  
  
Carter kissed her forehead and hugged her tight, "I'll see what I can do," he said, knowing how desperate she was to get out. He felt sorry for her, but knew she had to go through this, as much as he hated the idea of seeing her in pain. If she had spent weeks drinking every day, all day, then she was going to have a hell of a ride to recovery.  
  
He squeezed her hand. "I'll be right back, ok?" he said and saw her nod, and walked out of the room, closing the door to make sure she couldn't hear anything. He found Luka out in her living room, cleaning the broken pieces of crystal on the floor.  
  
"What are you doing?" Carter asked suddenly.  
  
Luka looked at him with an expression of ignorance on his face. "What?" he asked.  
  
"This whole detox thing," Carter said.  
  
Luka knew where he was headed, and he wasn't in the mood to argue, particularly with Carter. "I'm trying to help her," he said firmly as he threw the remaining of the dish on the garbage can.  
  
"By locking her up?" Carter asked stubbornly.  
  
"She needs help," Luka insisted.  
  
"Right. But she's not a mental patient, she's an alcoholic," Carter said calmly.  
  
"She's not an alcoholic," snapped Luka.  
  
A small, incredulous smile appeared on Carter's face. "Yes she is. She couldn't stop drinking for years, she can't stop drinking now. Maybe you don't wanna see that, but she's a drunk Luka, she'll be a drunk until she dies," he explained in a soothing yet cynical tone.  
  
Luka stood there with his hands on his hips, trying to look at Abby through the door, although it was closed.  
  
Carter analyzed his face, "I want to help her too, but if she doesn't want us to do anything, then there's nothing we can do."  
  
Luka looked at him, swallowing those words, "She admitted she had a problem, I don't care what it takes, I'm not gonna sit there while she gets drunk every night," he said.  
  
Carter rubbed his forehead, "You're treating her like she's a prisoner, if you lock her up the only thing that's gonna cause is make her want to run away, and you can't stay here forever, sooner or later she's gonna sneak out and go to the closets bar," he said.  
  
"She's not gonna do that," Luka said.  
  
"She's a drunk!" Carter said firmly, although it wasn't a yell. "She's not ready to give up drinking, you're just forcing her to do so, so you're just walking around in circles," he said.  
  
Luka exhaled deeply, and just shook his head slightly.  
  
Carter watched him closely. "You should let her go, I'll talk her into coming to an AA meeting with me, and if she's willing, then we can do a detox, but you're going nowhere right now," he said.  
  
"I'm not going to let her drink again," Luka said firmly.  
  
Carter rolled his eyes. "You don't know how to handle this, Luka, let me deal with it," he said.  
  
"No, absolutely not," Luka said as he shook his head.  
  
"You'd rather do everything wrong just as long as you're the one doing it?" Carter asked incredulously. "This isn't putting IVs on a dummy, ok? You're dealing with an addict," he added. "Does Dr. Weaver know about this?"   
  
"This isn't any of her business," Luka said.  
  
"Right, this isn't any of her business," Carter repeated to make sure Luka could hear how absurd that was. "Why are you being like this?" Carter asked, "Don't you care about what might happen to Abby at all?"  
  
"Of course I do, and that's why I'm doing this, I love her," Luka said firmly.  
  
"Oh, no, don't give me that love crap," Carter said as he shook his head and smiled sarcastically. "This isn't about who loves who, this is about you trying to help her now because you didn't when she needed you to. That's not love, Luka, that's guilt. And if you're doing this to redeem yourself, then you better let me handle it, because guilt is not enough to help you go through what's about to come," he finished.  
  
Luka shook his head, "You're wrong," he said as he walked into the kitchen.  
  
Carter followed him, but just to grab his keys and his coat, "Trust me, Luka, there's nothing I want more than for you to prove me wrong," he said and opened the door. "I'll come back tomorrow, if she still wants me to get her out of here, I'm calling Dr. Weaver," he said and walked out of the apartment.  
  
Luka didn't watch him leave, because he was too busy pretending he was washing the dishes. He dropped a cup as soon as the door closed and turned around, biting his lip. He grabbed a cup and opened the freezer to put some ice cream on it. How Abby was going to survive with just ice cream was beyond him, but he figured it was the cold in her throat that made her feel better, so he walked over and knocked on her door.  
  
"Abby?" he said, but soon realized it was ridiculous to knock on her door, so he opened it and walked in. She was still in the floor, so he put the ice cream down on her dresser and walked over.   
  
"What time is it?" Abby asked from under her arms.  
  
Luka looked at his watch, 5:30," he said. He could tell she was disappointed that it was still so early, so was he. This was going to be a long and excruciating process, luckily he had a couple of sick and vacation days saved up at work.   
  
Her arms were wrapped around her legs, so he took them and pulled her up with difficulty, since her arms were as stiff as a trunk. "You want some ice cream?" he asked her as she began to pace and shift on her feet in front of him.  
  
"NO!" Abby said, annoyed and trying to get her hands free from his.  
  
"Do you want an aspirin or something," he asked hesitantly.  
  
Abby just shook her head from side to side exaggeratedly.  
  
Luka sat down on the bed and made her sit on his lap, trying to get her to stop moving, but she immediately began to shake her foot. "Abby, you know why I'm doing this, right?" he asked her softly.  
  
Abby shook her head and rubbed her face with her hand.  
  
"I'm doing this because I care about you and I don't want to see you get hurt," he said. "I'm not trying to be mean or boss you around, I'm just doing what I think it's best for you, do you understand that?" he asked as if she was a little girl.  
  
Abby just kept shaking her foot and looking elsewhere.  
  
"But you did this once, you can do this again, I know you can," he said and kissed her cheek. He rested his head on her chest and hugged her tight to convince her his intentions were good.  
  
Abby put her arms around his shoulder and buried her head on the nape of his neck. "Luka, I need a drink," she moaned and began to whimper.  
  
"I know," Luka said and kissed her forehead, "Just hang in there."  
  
  
To be continued...  



	5. 24 Steps: Part 5

"24 Steps: Part 5" by Carolina  
  
  
Luka finished cooking a big stake he had been preparing all afternoon when he took it out of the fire and on to a plate. The only proof of life in the apartment was the constant weird sounds coming from the cartoons Abby kept watching. Normally, her television remained off during the day, and was only turned on at night so that Abby could watch the news. But since they walked into the apartment that morning, the Cartoon Network hadn't been turned off. Sometimes he wondered if she was actually paying attention at all. Her eyes sure were looking at the television, yet they remained in one spot. She wasn't even reacting to the funny and crazy capers Bugs Bunny came up with to make Elmer Fudge's life impossible. He was beginning to get scared. Not only had he never done a detox before, but he was terrified something might happen to Abby. At some level, he knew Carter was right, but he wanted to do this for her, scratch her back like she scratched his when they started going ou!  
t. He could only pray that this would work, and just be there for her and let time pass.  
  
He put his food on a plate on the table and walked back into the kitchen. After looking in some of her cabinets, he finally found a bowl and served some soup for Abby. He didn't know what people going through detox ate, so he assumed and treated her like she was sick; soup always made him feel better.  
  
Before eating his dinner, he walked over and knelt next to Abby, who was lying on the couch, staring at the television. He put the bowl of soup in front of her so she could see it. "Want some soup?" he asked her.  
  
Abby could feel her whole body trembling. It had been shaking for a while now, and she could feel her toes and fingers freezing. She brought her hand up and pushed the bowl of soup away, the mere smell of it made her want to throw up.   
  
Luka put the bowl on the center table in front of him. He brought his hand up to feel her forehead, which was so sweaty, her hairline was soaked, making her hair damp. She was shaking uncontrollably, and hadn't said a word in a long time, hadn't even moved. He looked at the television. Maybe he should take her to a hospital? Call Kerry? Or someone who knew what to do? He was a doctor, he should be able to handle this.  
  
He suddenly said something he never thought he'd be blurting out. He turned to her, bringing her back from her Looney Tunes reverie, "Do you want a cigarette?" he muttered, hating those words but desperate to see her out of her pain.  
  
Abby reacted to that. She looked at Luka and nodded her head. He had confiscated her cigarettes as well, and now took them out of his pocket to give them to her. She took them in her hand sat up on the couch as Luka handed her a lighter. Well, cigarettes weren't quite as alcohol, and alcohol with cigarettes were even better, but for now, the nicotine seemed to have a small effect on her. She sat on the couch, legs pressed up against her chest and inhaled the first puff slowly, holding her sweaty hair back. She suddenly realized the Cartoon Network was on.  
  
Luka half smiled. He hated that she smoked, but if it would help her withdrawal effects pass a little soothingly, then he wouldn't pester her now. He stood up to let her have that moment to herself, and walked to the table to eat his food. The apartment had been so quiet, and he was desperate for her to get better so they could sit down and just talk.   
  
Something inside of him was still demanding him to get help, and it sounded remarkably like Carter's voice. But he was at a point in which he just didn't know what to do. Abby was shaking and sweating and very quiet and he didn't even remember if giving her some medication was allowed. Maybe he could. Maybe he could give her something to help her sleep, or something for the pain. But if he did that, he'd have to leave to go to the hospital. He couldn't leave Abby alone here, and he couldn't take her to the hospital with him.   
  
So he decided to wait till the morning, although he knew it would be a hell of a night for Abby. In a couple of hours, she would be father away from the time she stopped drinking, and would probably feel a little better, or so he hoped. They could go to the hospital in the morning and get her something to sleep or turn down the pain a little.   
  
Luka finished his meal and put the plate on the sink, making a mental note to clean a little later. He walked over to the couch, which was next to the window, and where Abby was smoking her 5th cigarette in a row. He sat down next to her and looked at his watch, 9:30 pm. His eyes were already closing and Abby's were wide awake. He contemplated the idea of sleeping for at least an hour, but he just had to keep an eye on her.  
  
"You can go home if you want to," her voice interrupted his thoughts, which she seemed to be reading.  
  
"Hm?" Luka said as he looked over at her, wondering what she meant.  
  
Abby had her head buried in the same hand she had her cigarette. "There's no need for you to do this, I can detox myself whenever I want to," she said in a tone of anger, only her lips moving. "Do you think anyone gave a shit the last time? No. I did it myself and I can do it again whenever I fucking want."  
  
Luka put his hand on hers, and she removed it immediately and sharply, but for a brief second he felt her fingers were as cold as ice. He let out a sigh, "You don't have to do this alone, Abby, that's why I'm here," he said. He figured a friendly approach might do less damage than a romantic one.  
  
"I don't need you or anyone else to fix my life, or pretend to care," she hissed.   
  
Strong words. He knew it was just the withdrawal effects talking, so he didn't let any of her comments really get to him. "Abby..." he said and put his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Abby snapped as if she was on fire and was preventing him to get burned, and quickly pushed his arm away. She stood up and began to pace the room, with the cigarette still on her hand. "Go home, I don't need you to stay here, you're just making things worse," she sort of yelled.   
  
"How am I making things worse?" Luka asked as he stood up.  
  
Abby rubbed her face, she didn't need mind puzzles at the moment. "You just are," she said sharply.  
  
Something was buzzing inside of Luka, telling him he should leave her alone and that he shouldn't start an argument. Unfortunately, Luka wasn't in touch with his intuitions. He started slowly though. "Abby," he said as he approached her, "Do you really want to destroy yourself like this? If you keep drinking, you're gonna lose your job, and what's going to happen then? You're going to end up dead in an alley somewhere," he stressed.  
  
"I don't care," Abby hissed as she paced around.   
  
"I think you do," Luka said. "It was your decision to stop the first time, when you didn't have anything. Now you have people who care about you, you have your job, you're going back to med school soon, you have me," he paused for a moment, and then continued, "If you keep drinking you're going to lose all that," he finished in a plea.  
  
Abby shook her head and made a pained face, "Leave me alone," she said, now walking towards the kitchen, although she didn't have anything to do in there but drop her cigarette in the sink.  
  
Luka dropped his head, it was like she was deaf, nothing was getting to her. No matter how much he bargained, she was just opting to ignore him. He followed her, but stood between the living room and the kitchen. He put his hands on his hips. "You know, for the first time, I think Richard was right," he said sharply.  
  
As the words entered Abby's ears, she clenched her fists on something, and that something was thrown right at Luka, it was a plate.  
  
Luka reacted in time to duck, and the plate was smashed right against the wall. He moved closer. "Yeah, that's good," he said and gave her another plate, which Abby threw against the wall of the kitchen. "Yeah, who needs silverwear," Luka said and gave her a cup and another plate, which were immediately destroyed.   
  
Abby grabbed another cup from the counter and threw it against the wall. It didn't occur to her that she was destroying her own kitchen, and plates which had been very expensive. Her only thoughts were that every time she released one of the items, her arms didn't feel as heavy, and her ligaments didn't hurt as much.  
  
"Hey, I'm angry too," Luka said and threw a plate against the floor. He opened one of the cabinets, were Abby kept all her china. "There you go, enjoy," he said and helped Abby as she shattered all the crystal against the walls and the floor.   
  
Abby suddenly stopped when there was nothing else to break, and simultaneously, someone from the apartment above hers began to complain by knocking on the floor/ceiling with a bat. Her hair was all over her face and her face was full of tears, but all she could feel right now was anger. She looked at Luka, who seemed nonchalant by the whole destruction, and was merely looking at her.  
  
"Feel better?" he asked her, with his hands still in his hips. Abby didn't say anything, but was still trying to catch her breath. "Good," he said and looked around, the floor filled with shattered crystal. He looked down and saw she was wearing just socks, and her face looked exhausted. He walked over and scooped her up to prevent her from cutting her feet. "Let's try and get some sleep," he mumbled as he carried her away.   
  
Luka laid Abby on the bed. She was still shaking a little, although less than before, and her face was still sweaty. He wasn't planning on sleeping, but since she had done the exercise of a lifetime, he was hoping she would at least drift off for a couple of hours. He took his shirt off and his shoes and slid on the bed next to her. She had her back against him, but he turned her over and put his arm around her so she could rest her head on his chest. He was surprised by her willingness. Abby didn't say anything or moved, but was just shaking a little against him. Luka tightened his arm around her to maybe stop the shaking, but it didn't work very well. He kissed her sweaty hair and took her icy hand, knowing that if she at least stayed sober for 24 hours, she would be able to pull through completely.  
  
----------------  
  
Abby laid in bed quietly, still looking at the same spot she had been looking at since Luka laid her there. He had left the lights on, probably to catch her in case she wanted to run away. Moving cautiously, she looked up to see his eyes closed, and snoring lightly. She caught a glimpse at the clock, still 11:39. She was surprised Luka had fallen asleep so fast, although he could be pretending just to trick her. But she knew Luka's sleep. When he was awake, his eyelids looked tense and shut, whereas when he was sleeping, they were slightly open. Quietly and very carefully, she sat on the bed and looked at her own hands. They were shaking uncontrollably, and it seemed that the more she thought about it, the more they'd shake. She ran them through her face and hair to remove the sweat, but the biggest presence she felt at the moment, was her throat, which was dry and throbbing.  
  
Abby stood up, and miraculously, Luka didn't even move. She walked out of the room and stopped in the small hallway to lean against the wall, bringing her hands to her face. It was only 11:40. She had been here for years but it had been only 13 hours. She began to cry. Why? She didn't know, but there were tears all over her face, although she wasn't sobbing or whimpering or even whining. She dragged her feet to the living room, and could see all the crystal on the floor of it and the kitchen. She went back and took a pair of shoes from the hall closet, and very slowly, walked into the kitchen.  
  
In 60 seconds, her throat had gotten twice as dry, and she felt like if she didn't put some water on it, it would dry to pieces. Trying to swipe all the crystal with her shoes, she finally made it to the refrigerator and opened its door. There was juice everywhere, and very slowly and hesitantly she reached on to the back where there was a carton of apple juice. She stared at the container for a while, and then looked at the clock on the stove. She had only been here 13 hours. 13 hours that would be wasted.  
  
She scrolled the lid of the carton open and gulped down the Vodka, or at least half of it. When she first started drinking, sometime when she was a teenager, she couldn't even stand a shot of alcohol, now she could gulp down nearly half a bottle without flinching. She removed the carton from her mouth, and a couple of drops fell on the floor. Her fingers were actually shaking now more than before, and she brought them to her mouth to wipe some of the Vodka which lingered there.   
  
Her eyes were beginning to fill again with tears of rage, and she looked at the carton of "juice" with hate. She moved to the sink and poured the liquid, or what was left of it, down the drain. It was really unnecessary, since it was too late, but she sensed Luka would check every container in her refrigerator in the morning, although he really should have done that when they first walked in. Amateur, she thought. The guy really had no idea what he was doing. She had detoxed herself the first time, he was right. And she did it all by herself, but back then, she did it more out of spite. Stopping the drinking was a way to sort of get back at someone, or something. Her husband, or her mother, or her childhood, she didn't know. But she didn't do it because something better was waiting for her, she did it because she wanted to create better things to wait for her.   
  
Abby threw the carton into the trash and opened the refrigerator again. She took two more cartons and poured the alcohol down the sink, and threw them in the garbage. Trying to avoid the crystal on the floor again, she hopped on the counter and reached over the top of her cabinets to take out a small bottle of whiskey she had hid there. Her hand reached under the stove to take out another bottle, and did the same under the couch and behind the television set. But she left one behind the stove. She walked out of her apartment and threw the bottles down the garbage shoot, getting rid of the evidence.   
  
She walked back in and leaned on the door. Her body had stopped shaking, she wasn't craving anymore.   
  
She walked back into her bedroom, and found Luka still sleeping, snoring a little. She slid next to him and stared at his face, they had both failed. There was no reason for him to keep the light on anymore, so she reached over and turned the lamp off. She didn't care about waking him up now, so she grabbed his face and kissed him on the lips, apologizing for the let down. She knew what she had just done would make things even worse, but, at least for now, it would make the morning come faster.  
  
----------------  
  
And it did. Luka opened his eyes, not aware that he had closed them in the first place. He was shocked, though, to see Abby sleeping next to him on the bed. He mentally chastised himself for falling asleep, especially in such an important night, but he had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and exhaustion got the best of him. He decided to let her sleep, since sleeping was now a blessing for both. The color on her skin was back, and she had stopped sweating, maybe she was ready now to be trusted. He stood up and took a quick shower.  
  
Luka scrambled some eggs on the pan and threw in some ham. He turned around to see Abby coming out of the bedroom, looking tired and miserable. He smiled at her, "Want some eggs?" he asked as he showed her the pan.  
  
Abby shook her head and looked around. Luka had cleaned all the crystal from the floor, but was forced to eat on a napkin, and drink juice right from the carton. She sat on the table in front of him and drank some of his juice. She didn't know what to say, and was mostly just ashamed of herself again, even though he didn't know what she had done the night before.   
  
Luka looked up to see her resting her head on her hand. "Do you, want to do something today?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
Abby looked up, "Like what?" she asked.  
  
Luka flinched his face, "I don't know, whatever you want to do," he said. "We have to celebrate your first 24 alcohol free hours."  
  
Abby bit her lip. "I'd really rather we didn't," she mumbled. She looked up at him, "I'm sorry about yelling at you, and breaking all the plates," she said.  
  
Luka smiled, "No problem," he said, feeling he had done something right. "Are you feeling better?" he asked.  
  
Abby smiled and nodded. "I really wanna go back to work," she said.  
  
"So soon?" Luka asked.   
  
"I feel ok," Abby said, looking at the food on his napkin.   
  
"Dr. Weaver said you could take as many days as you like," he said.   
  
"I don't like being without a job," she said.   
  
"Ok," Luka said, mostly not to upset her. He looked at her and put his food away. "Abby, I really want to go to an AA meeting with you," he said sincerely. "Maybe we can go tonight, or tomorrow."  
  
Abby looked up at him, caught between a blade and the wall. She chose the blade. "Yeah," she said with half a smile, "I can arrange something, and, um, we can go next time they meet," she said.  
  
Luka smiled satisfied, "Ok," he said and gathered the napkin, drank some more juice, and threw the remaining of the food away.   
  
There was a knock at the door and Luka turned around to answer it.   
  
"I'll get it," Abby said as she got off the stool and walked into the living room. She opened the door and smiled at Carter.  
  
"Hey, Abby," Carter said noticing her change. "You're looking better," he said, a little amazed.  
  
"Yeah, I'm ok," Abby said and let him in.   
  
Carter walked into her apartment and immediately spotted Luka coming out of the kitchen. They exchanged knowing looks, and Luka decided to leave them alone. "I'll be in the room," he said and walked into Abby's bedroom to review some charts.   
  
Carter sat on the couch and looked at Abby. "What happened?" he asked.  
  
"Do you hate each other?" Abby asked, having noticed the glance.  
  
Carter shook his head, "No, we don't hate each other. We just disagree on some things," he said and looked intensely at her. "Abby, are you ok? Do you still want me to get you out of here?" he asked cautiously.  
  
Abby smiled, "I'm fine, I was just a little, you know, off yesterday," she said.  
  
"How are you feeling now?" he asked.  
  
Abby took a deep breath, "Oh, you know, still a little weird, but I'm fine," she said nodding her head, but inside she felt like shit.   
  
"Good, that's great," Carter said with a big smile. He didn't know much about alcoholism, and it was a little surprising to know it had only taken a day for Abby to lay off it. But he was really happy that she had.  
  
"Are you going to work?" Abby asked, having noticed his clothes and bag.  
  
"Yep, I just stopped by to see how you were," he said, standing up.  
  
"Thanks," Abby said. "Can you tell Dr. Weaver I'll be back tomorrow?" she asked.  
  
"So soon?" Carter asked.  
  
"Yeah, I hate not working," she admitted.  
  
"Ok," Carter said and looked down at her for a moment. "Abby, are you sure you're ok with Luka here? I mean, I don't think he's handling this the right way," he said.  
  
Abby was a little surprised by that comment, and just raised her eyebrows a little. "No, I mean, he's doing this for the right reasons. I mean, it's not his fault that I'm here, I just, you know, it's... he wouldn't be doing this if he didn't care," she said. She shook her head, "Look, I know you don't necessarily get along, but no one has ever done what he did for me last night, and no matter what happens with me, it's not his fault, it's mine," she stressed.  
  
Carter nodded, "I'll try to remember that," he said. "Let me know if you need anything, I can be here in five minutes," he added.  
  
"Thanks Carter," Abby said.   
  
Carter kissed her forehead, "I'll see you tomorrow then," he said and walked towards the door.   
  
"See you tomorrow," Abby said and closed the door behind him. She turned around and walked into her room, where Luka was lying on the bed and reading a chart. She walked over and slid on the bed next to him, putting her arm around his waist.  
  
Luka put the chart down and kissed her head. "You're still here," he commented.  
  
Abby let out one chuckle and looked up at him. She turned serious, "Richard really was right, you know," she said.  
  
Luka shook his head, "No, Abby, I didn't mean that, I just said it to get you mad and maybe encourage you a little," he said.  
  
"No, no," Abby said. She exhaled, "You don't know what it was like back then, it was ten times worse. I was depressed all the time and miserable. He didn't even like to take me out because he was embarrassed by me. I was... just the worse human being you could imagine," she said. "And it's scary that it might happen again. It wasn't Richard's fault, he was just my husband. And somehow I don't blame him for cheating on me, he just needed to find someone better," she finished.  
  
Luka frowned, he didn't know if this low self esteem was good or bad. If she was healing or sinking even further. "Don't say that, Abby," he said as he played with her hair. "You proved him wrong, you're a great person, and a wonderful woman. He just couldn't see it the way I can," he said.   
  
Abby rested her chin on his chest to look at him. Normally those words would send her to cloud nine, but now they just really hurt, and made her feel worse. She cleared her throat. "I don't want that to happen to you," she said.  
  
"What?" Luka asked.  
  
"I don't wanna bring you down like I brought Richard down. And I don't want you to feel like you should find someone better because I have a flaw," she lamented.  
  
"You don't have a flaw, Abby. Everyone can push people away, some just actually do it," he said and looked down at her. "Did you know that since my wife died, I haven't gotten anyone to fall in love with me?" he asked and watched as she stared at him. "I've been with women who don't wait three days to break up with me because I can't reach to people the way I used to. I got scared when you came around because I didn't want to push you away. I didn't want to, and yet I tried. But you weren't scared of me. That actually scared me even more," he said with a chuckle. He turned serious, "You're not going to bring me down because I'm not going to let you go down," he finished and moved a strand of her hair out of her face.  
  
Abby half smiled, touched by his words. She raised her chin from his chest and moved her head over to peck him on the lips, only lingered there for a while. Luka brought his hands up and brushed her hair back, and left them resting on the sides of her face. He pulled her head closer and kissed each one of her lips before deepening the kiss, reaching inside of her. Abby caressed his face. They hadn't shared a kiss like this in weeks, since before she started drinking. But even though she was still drinking, she let her body take over, once again.  
  
Luka continued to kiss her even though he wanted to do so much more. He didn't know if this was the right time for sex, and the last thing he wanted was to get in the way of her recuperation. If he was going to make a decision, it had to be made now, because he could feel that fire inside of him growing, and it would burn his common sense in a matter of seconds. "Abby," he said as he stopped kissing her and looked her in the eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked.  
  
Abby nodded, and reached over to kiss him again. Luka let his mind shut off completely, and he put his arm around her waist to get her off him and get on top of her. He deepened the kiss even more, getting rid of weeks of yearning in one single action. His tongue explored every corner of her mouth, as his hands explored every part of her body. He could feel Abby's hands trying to unzip his pants, so he decided to help her a little and his pants were on the ground in a matter of seconds, his mouth didn't leave hers during all this. He unbuttoned the shirt of her pajamas and reached inside to run his hands through her stomach until they were on her back, and then massaged his way to the front again. He thanked God that Abby didn't like to sleep with her bra on, because right now, he didn't think his fingers could manage a bra clip. He stopped kissing her for a moment to take her top off, another item of clothing which hit the bottom. He took his moment to look at her, her ri!  
bs more noticeable through her skin now than when they first started going out. For a moment he thought of stopping to give her some food, but he had to get rid of this lava of emotions first.  
  
Slowly, he leaned down and kissed her neck, her collarbone, her chest and her breasts, each one of them thoroughly. He could hear Abby moaning, and her arm was suddenly somewhere else. Abby opened the top drawer of her night stand and without looking, took out a small packet, she didn't even bother to close the drawer. With the condom still in her hand, she slid Luka's shirt off, and his boxers were removed by her feet.   
  
Luka let out a grunted as Abby put the condom on him, and now the only thing between them, was the pants of her pajamas. Luka was always considerate with women, knowing they liked long foreplay before releasing the hounds. With Abby, it had always been that way, since she loved to experiment, and often brought home toys Luka didn't even know how to use. But right now, neither him nor Abby were interested in anything long term. As he caressed her legs, he slid her pants down, only to find that she was wearing underwear, but that didn't stop him from getting where he wanted to get.   
  
Well, it turned out to be long sex after all, and Luka laid next to Abby as soon as they were done. After catching his breath again, he looked at her, and noticed there were some trails of tears on her face. He brought his hand up and wiped her face. "Why are you crying?" he asked softly.  
  
"I'm not," Abby said, wiping her own face. She hadn't wanted to have sex with Luka before because it would feel like she was being a hypocrite with him. Like saying I love you and not really meaning it. She hated herself when she was drinking, and somehow it felt like having sex with him would damage him too. Like passing on a disease. She knew alcoholism wasn't sexually transmitted, that was beyond innocence. But she lied to him again and then sealed it with sex. That didn't bode well with her at all. He was already going down with her and the worst thing was that he had no idea.  
  
When she was going out with Richard, it was ok to be a drunken no one, because he didn't care. Even if she had failed, their marriage was already dead, and he couldn't have given a damn. Now it hurt. It hurt because Luka had done so much and she hadn't thrown his efforts down the toilet. He was lying next to her, thinking his Abby had gotten over the alcohol, not knowing she still had a bottle behind the stove. Carter had gone to work thinking everything was ok, and even Kerry was expecting the old Abby back at County tomorrow. That was 3 people she had let down, and it made her sad to think she would cause so much pain when ever they find out.  
  
"I just, I," she stammered. "I'm sorry, I just," she tried to find the right words but couldn't.  
  
"It's ok," Luka said and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. "You don't have to be scared, ok? You're gonna get through this, you already are," he cooed.  
  
Abby closed her eyes tighter and cursed to herself. She could get over the alcohol, he was right, but how was she going to get over letting him down... again.   
  
  
  
To be continued...  



	6. 24 Steps: Part 6

"24 Steps: Part 6" by Carolina  
  
  
With a very long and deep breath, Abby went to open the doors that led to the ER, but then when they came open automatically, she remembered she didn't have to, so she walked in and went straight into the lounge.   
  
"Abby," Kerry greeted as the nurse walked in.   
  
"Morning, Dr. Weaver," Abby said with a smile, and looking at the big cup of coffee her boss was pouring herself. She walked to her locker and began to get her things ready.   
  
"Are you feeling better?" Kerry asked and leaned on the counter.   
  
Abby turned around to face her for a brief moment, and then turned back to her locker, "Yeah, must have been one of those 24 hour bugs," she said.   
  
"Huh," Kerry said casually. There was something about that which smelled a little fishy. Abby didn't even look sick when she left, she didn't look sick now, and Luka took the day off too? She hated her when her employees took her for an idiot. If they wanted to go on a trip they should have just asked. "Well," she said and eased herself off the counter, "Welcome back, we have a year's worth of patients today."  
  
"Yeah, I'll be right out," Abby said and saw her walk out. She shook her head, and all of a sudden heard Malik saying something about a trauma, so she closed her locker and walked outside, and followed Kerry. The ambulances came quickly, and the first one was opened.   
  
"16 year old male, no LOC, possible fractures to the right leg and left wrist, has a small laceration to the right temple, BP is normal. His dad is on the other ambulance, he's more critical," Doris said.  
  
"Ok, Abby take this one and find a doctor inside, I'll take the father," Kerry said.  
  
"Ok," Abby said and her and Doris took the rig inside. "Dave? I need you here," Abby said once she spotted the young doctor.  
  
"Dr. Dave, always here to help the beautiful nurses," Dave said and grabbed the chart as they walked into trauma one. "Ok, Bruce, are you feeling any pain?"  
  
"Just my wrist and leg," the 16 year old boy said.  
  
"Vitals are normal," Abby said once she hooked him to the monitors.  
  
"Ok, call radiology," Dave said and looked through the doors to the other room. "Looks like Weaver has a good one there."  
  
"It's his dad," Abby said suggestively.  
  
"Oh," Dave said and looked at the boy, "Don't worry, Bruce, I'm sure your dad will be ok."  
  
"I don't care," Bruce said.  
  
Dave looked at Abby and raised his eyebrows, "Ok, why don't you get everything ready to suture that temple and I'll be back in a second," he said and walked out.   
  
Abby shook her head and turned to Bruce, "Are you sure you're not in any pain?"  
  
"I said no already," Bruce said. "We hit the wall on his side."  
  
"Ok," Abby said casually. "What happened?" she asked and Bruce just rolled his eyes, "You can tell me, you know."  
  
"Nothing. Freak comes home after a night on the town and picks up a fight with my mom. Then he forces her to let him take me to school, and the asshole smashed the car against a wall," Bruce said, obviously mad.  
  
"Was he drunk?" Abby asked.  
  
"What do you think?" Bruce said. "He can die in there for all I care."  
  
"That's not a very nice thing to say about your dad," Abby said as she got the suture kit ready.  
  
"What do you know about living with a drunk?" Bruce asked.  
  
Abby raised her eyebrows and smiled, "You'd be surprised."  
  
"He does it every night too, and my mom is too stupid to leave him." He looked at his father on the other room, and how all the doctors were working hard to save him, "They should let him die."  
  
Abby looked at the other trauma room, "I think you'd miss him if he dies."  
  
"Guess again," Bruce said.   
  
Abby smiled, "You should give him a change. Did you know that alcoholism was considered a sort of disease?"  
  
"I don't think so. He chose to be that way, it's not like he was born drunk," Bruce said.  
  
"Yeah, maybe," Abby said. "I was an alcoholic," she added as she put on his IV.  
  
"It doesn't matter what everyone tells you to your face, behind you everyone thinks you're a scum. You drink and drink so you don't have to face your problems, but all that causes is to ruin someone else's life. If he really cared about mom and I he would stop drinking, now he's just a selfish son of a bitch," Bruce said, still mad.  
  
Abby looked at him and then continued to do her job. Dave walked back into the room and she turned to him, "You got this?" she said.  
  
"Yeah," Dave said and sat down to suture Bruce's head.   
  
Abby walked out and went to the lounge to get herself some coffee. Bruce's words hadn't done much to her. She had been called worse on her days, a selfish bitch was nothing compared to the names other people had called her. What bothered her a little was the ruining other people's lives part. She hadn't thought of that. Was she being selfish now and not thinking about Kerry, or Carter, and especially Luka? Probably. She always assumed, though, that somewhere down the line they would get tired of her and cut the ties. That she would get fired, dumped, and found herself friendless.  
  
"Hey, Abby, what are you doing here?" Carter asked as he walked into the lounge.  
  
"Hm?" Abby said as she looked at him suddenly, "Oh, just taking a coffee break."  
  
"I didn't think you'd come back for a while. Are you sure you're up to working?" he asked as he took his coat out of the locker.  
  
"Yeah, I feel great," Abby said.   
  
"Really?" Carter asked, a little suspicious about her jolly good mood.  
  
"Yeah, I wasn't that into it," she said and put her coffee on the counter. "I better get back out there," she added with a smile and walked out.   
  
Carter frowned and walked to the counter and taste her coffee. Just coffee. But still, there was something a little weird about her mood. It seemed a little force. Even when he had been 24 hours without drugs, he wasn't that happy about it. Well, he made a mental note to talk to her after work or when they got a break. If he tried to approach her at work, he knew she'd deny it. Not that he was absolutely sure she was still drinking, he had more faith in her than that. But he wanted to let her know he was there if she needed to talk.  
  
Abby walked out of the lounge and back into the trauma room, where she heard a turmoil going on.  
  
"Abby, call security!" Dave said as him and the other doctors tried to keep a man off Bruce; she assumed that was his dad. She froze for a moment, and then ran out and came back with some guards.   
  
"I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch!" the man screamed, his face bloody. The two security guards came and took the guy out.   
  
"Watch out, he still needs medical attention," Kerry said as she walked out.  
  
Dave turned to Abby, "Can you stay here for a second?" he asked and didn't wait for her answer before he walked out.   
  
Abby frowned and turned to Bruce, "What was that about?"  
  
"I told him I was gonna press charges," Bruce said. "So you were an alcoholic, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I was never like that though," Abby said as she looked towards the door.  
  
"That's what he says everytime he sobers up," Bruce said.   
  
Abby looked at him and bit her lip. She sat down on a stool to wait until Dave came back, and looked at all the mess Bruce's dad had caused. She looked at him and felt nothing. She didn't care. She hadn't cared a long time ago and that is when she had come to hate herself, even more. She didn't care if Bruce's dad came back, she walked out of the room and picked up another chart to keep working.  
  
That afternoon she walked out of the ER and got in her car. She was supposed to meet Carter at Magoo's for coffee, but she wasn't in the mood for mind games or to take his pity. She just couldn't talk to him, actually. She felt ashamed because she had been his sponsor and the one person who would have to stay on top of things and she had failed him. How was she going to sit across from him to tell him everything he needed to do to be a better person? She would have to hear that from him now, and she couldn't. He always looked up to her and now he would look down at her, that bothered her the most.   
  
She reached her apartment in the blink of an eye and threw her keys on the table, since the dish had been broken. She looked around her apartment, and still couldn't get rid of this feeling inside. It wasn't a feeling per se, it was more like a void. Like her stomach was empty but it wasn't her stomach, it was something else. Well, nothing a little hair of the dog that bit you couldn't cure. She found the bottle of Vodka she had hid the night Luka was there and drank nearly all of it down, but she still had that awful feeling inside of her. She wasn't drunk, she knew what she was like when she was drunk, and it took more than a sip of Vodka. Maybe she actually was hungry? Not that either. She had barely eaten anything since she began drinking again, but she had gotten used to it already, and her stomach wasn't growling. Actually she just had a big urge to get out of there. She had felt this way before exactly five and a half years ago, and back then she just went to her best friend and the day after that she started going to AA.   
  
She looked at the bottle she was still holding in her hand and dumped it on the trash can. Her best friend back then was living in New Orleans now, so she grabbed her keys and went out for a walk, to think or just wait until the morning came, and see if it could take away this, well, whatever it was she was feeling inside.   
  
---------------------  
  
Luka sat on his bed, reviewing charts but not really concentrating on any of them. He put them down and began to play with his pen. The last three days had gone in a second, yet they had been so significant. He couldn't stop thinking about the idea of Abby being a drunk. Why did people insist on using that word? Or alcoholic? Wasn't she a recovering alcoholic? There's a difference. It's not like she would go barflying every night and then had to be brought into the ER, like the drunks he had always known. She didn't cause any trouble or make any scenes. Well, he didn't know that, be he couldn't picture it either. Still that word bothered him the most, drunk. He was in a relationship with a... well, a woman who drank. He couldn't bring himself to calling her that. He compared her with all of the other girlfriends he had had, and with his wife. She had always been so innocent and pure. They grew up together and even though he had gone through some things like smoking at an early age, she always remained that way. He fell in love with her, but mostly he grew into her. They had known each other since childhood and after adolescence, it just made sense to marry her. He didn't chose her, she came with him.   
  
Maybe that was the reason why he hadn't found someone again, because now he had the luxury of choosing a woman. He could open her eyes, point his fingers and say, "That one." He hadn't known how hard that was. Dating was the most excruciating thing he had ever had to go through, the reason why he had stayed away from it as far as possible. Even if it was someone he liked as much as he liked Abby, it felt awkward. It was like going through adolenscence all over again. He had never gone through that, so he wondered if this feeling of doubt was a part of it.   
  
He heard a knock at the door and stood up to answer it. He must have called Abby with his mind, because she stood in front of him, with a serious expression on her face.   
  
"We... need to talk," Abby said  
  
Luka didn't like the sound of that. She wasn't smiling, so he didn't smile either. "Is there something wrong?" he asked cautiously.  
  
Abby only made a sudden move with her head, indicating she didn't want to talk in his room.   
  
Luka grabbed his jacket and closed the door, and a couple of minutes later, they were at a park near the hotel. He looked at her in confusion, "What's wrong?" he asked again, getting very hesitant about her own trepidation.  
  
Abby cleared her throat and sat on a bench, and Luka sat beside her. She scratched her brow but didn't look at him. "I, lied to you again," she said, her voice stonger than she actually thought it would be.  
  
Luka wrinkled his forehead in ignorance, "About what?" he asked.  
  
Abby took a moment, staring at a whirlwind of leaves right in front of them. Her fingers played with the other, and she looked down at her hand to scold them. "I, um," she let out a sigh, "When you were at my apartment and you threw out all the bottles, you didn't find some I had hidden," she finished.  
  
Luka closed his eyes and was careful not to let out a sigh of disappointment, but a little of it did come out. "Did you drink that night?"   
  
Abby just nodded.  
  
Luka rolled his eyes and shifted on his seat, he was furious. "Abby..."  
  
"Before you say anything," she interrupted his obvious upcoming repremand with the raise of her hand, "Just listen to what I have to say, ok?"  
  
Luka exhaled and shook his head, breathing an, "Ok."  
  
"I..." she looked at him now, "Really appreciate what you did, and no one has ever done something like that for me before. But, you were the one putting all the effort, Luka, not me. That's not how it's supposed to go. I, just, wasn't ready to quit," she said with a mirthless laugh. "I know I have a problem, but I just wasn't ready to solve it, and that's not your fault, or my mother's, or Carter's... it's mine," she stressed.  
  
"I, uh, I don't know if you've noticed, but I really don't have much for me or anyone. I failed as a daughter, I failed as a wife, I failed as a student, as a nurse, as a sponsor... this was the only thing I could be proud of. And although being an alcoholic is not a fancy title, having the luxury to say, 'I have been sober for five years,'... it felt great," she said with a smile. "Well, I can't say that anymore, that's another thing I failed at. And now, I failed as a girlfriend also," she added, the smile vanished.   
  
Luka, who had been ready to preach it down to her, looked at Abby with weary eyes. He felt bad, actually. For what? He didn't know, because she was right, it wasn't his fault. But her words hit home. Whether she was consciously trying to make him feel bad or not, he didn't know, but it was working.   
  
Abby cleared her throat again. "I don't know what's gonna happen now, but I wanted to let you know first. I don't want to drag you down with me, and whether you want to help me or not, I think you should know that it takes a lot to be with a drunk; a lot of guts, a lot of patience, and a lot of love. You may have the guts and the patience, Luka, but you don't love me," she said. "So I don't think it's fair for you to keep going out with an alcoholic."  
  
Luka bit his lip, "That's a little presumptious, don't you think?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"Well, it's the truth," Abby said quickly. "I know somewhere down the road you would have realized that and dumped me."  
  
Luka nodded, "Are you breaking up with me because you don't want me to break up with you?" he asked.   
  
Abby raised her eyebrows, "I hit rock bottom today, Luka. Having you break up with me would have finished me," she admitted.   
  
Luka was surprised that she wasn't crying, or whimpering; her voice was very calmed. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Do you want to stop drinking now?"  
  
Abby played with her lips and looked around the park, and then at him. "I don't wanna be a drunk anymore," she said with a sigh.   
  
Luka was relieved to hear that, "There's a detox center Rockford," he said and waited for her reaction, which was to look at him quickly. "I send some of my patients there. It's a 30 day program and one of the bests. If I arrange everything, will you go?" he asked cautiously.  
  
Abby wrinkled her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. A detox center; she loathed those places. It had been one of the options 5 years ago, but she had turned it down for that same reason. It was like being punished and sent off to jail for refinement. She felt awful, because she didn't want Luka to be further involved in this. She knew what would come, and she knew it wasn't fun in the sun, running through a field of roses. If she let him get closer, he would run away screaming in the future, and that was exactly what she didn't want.   
  
Luka detected her hesitation, but he didn't want to push her; that had gotten him nowhere the first time. He removed a strand of hair from her face, "What are you thinking?" he asked.  
  
Abby inhaled, "I... I don't think you should do that for me. Luka you have no idea how much this is going to destroy us..."  
  
"Abby, can you forget about us for a moment? It's not about us, or me. Forget about me doing this because you're my girlfriend, this is none of that. This is about me helping you because I care about what happens to you. We're friends, right?" he asked and didn't wait for her response. "Whatever happens or doesn't happen between us, I can't just turn my back on you and walk away. If you want me to do that, I guess I can. But if there's something I can do, I will do it. And if you are willing to go to that detox center, then I'll arrange everything and be here for you when you come back." He paused for a moment and then continued, "If I arrange everything tonight, will you go?"  
  
Abby looked at him, "Tonight?"  
  
"Do you really want to stop drinking?" he asked her.   
  
Abby nodded, "Yeah."  
  
"Then why wait?" he said as he raised his eyebrows.   
  
Abby thought of all the shifts she'd be missing and her rent, utilities. She guessed it was normal to think of those things, but it made her a little apprehensive. But then she thought of what happened earlier that day, and there was no doubt in her mind that this was what she needed, and if it didn't work, well, she would just have to be a drunk forever.   
  
She looked at Luka and nodded again, "Yeah," she said and felt immediately as if she had signed a pact with the devil.  
  
"Ok," Luka said and let out a breath of relief. He was also nervous about what she would have to go through. If it had been hell two nights before, it would be the apocalipse in that center. But he figured nothing could be worse than what was happening now, so he tried to have a little faith in her. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, "Let's go."  
  
------------------  
  
When I was younger I believed, that dreams came true,  
Now I wonder.   
Cause I've seen much more dark skies, than blue,  
Now I wonder.  
  
I keep on praying for a blue sky,  
I keep on searching through the rain.  
I keep on thinking of the good times,  
Will they ever come again?  
Now I wonder.  
  
When I was younger I believed, that I could win,  
Now I wonder.  
There was a time when you and I, walked hand in hand,  
Now I wonder.  
  
I keep on searching for the old days,  
I keep on thinking I can change.  
I keep on hoping for a new day,  
Will I ever feel the same?  
Now I wonder.  
  
Oh, I wonder.   
  
Luka turned off the radio, "I don't want to listen to any sad songs," he said. They had been driving for a long time, yet Abby didn't show any signs of being tired. Actually, he had been the only one talking through the ride. He figured if he turned off the radio, she would say something.   
  
She looked out the window, having no idea where they were going or where Rockford was. Wherever they were heading, north, south, east, or west, it was mostly just nature. This must be one of those places where they built a center in the middle of nowhere so patients couldn't escape, or they would be one with nature, or both. She turned to Luka all of a sudden, "30 days?"  
  
Luka nodded and looked at her briefly, "Do you want to turn back?"  
  
Abby stared at the road ahead, "No."  
  
Some 30 minutes later, Luka pulled over into a big center, which had big crystal windows and the walls were made of gray cement, or it was painted that way. The sun was out now, and Luka turned off the engine and turned to her.  
  
"Ok, this is it," he said.   
  
Abby nodded and opened her door. Luka did the same and opened the trunk to take out her bag. Abby looked at the tall edifice and let out a sigh, she only felt when Luka took her hand and she was suddenly walking in. Luka felt her hand trembling and sweating, but he didn't know if she was withdrawling or nervous, or both. They reached the front desk and he put her bag down. An old, sweet woman looked up. "I called a couple of hours ago," he said.  
  
"Who's the patient?" the woman asked.  
  
"She is," Luka said and pulled Abby out from behind him.  
  
"Ok," the woman said. "Honey, I need you to fill these out and I need the permission from your physician. Do you have that?"  
  
"I can do it," Luka said.  
  
"Are you a doctor?" the woman asked.  
  
"Yes," Luka said.  
  
"Are *her* doctor?" she asked again.  
  
Luka nodded, "Yeah."  
  
"Ok, before you sign anything, I need you to both fill these," she handed them both some papers, "And one of our doctors will be out to evaluate her."  
  
"I need to be evaluated?" Abby asked hesitantly.  
  
"We need to know if you are qualified to be admitted," the woman said.   
  
"Thank you," Luka said and took some pens from a cup. He followed Abby to a table and sat down. He didn't know why he had to fill these out, but his papers had less questions than hers. 'Has your patient ever gone to the hospital or your office with problems regarding her addiction?' he figured that was a yes. Questions like that kept going on. He tried to answer them as truthfully as he could, but his judgement was a little biased, since he was being her doctor and friend. After all, he wanted her to be admitted more than anything.  
  
Abby scratched her forehead and began to fill the papers out. Name, age, address, race, kind of addiction. They kept getting more and more personal, with physical, behavioral, and emotional state, social background, legal problems, employment... she filled each one of the questions and put the papers down. Luka had already finished, but she just remained quiet until a man in a white coat came out.  
  
"Abby Lockhart?" he asked and Abby stood up.  
  
"Yeah?" she said.  
  
"I'm Dr. Spencer. Why don't you come with me," he said with a smile.   
  
Abby looked at Luka, who gave her a reassuring look, and she followed the man into a small office. He took her papers and examined them throughly. "Take a seat."  
  
"Thanks," Abby said, cleared her throat and sat down.   
  
"Says here you have an alcohol problem," he read and looked up, "How long have you been an alcoholic?"  
  
Abby took a breath and thought for a moment, looking at some of the toys he had on his desk. "I, have been drinking since I was a teenager, and then five years ago I quit. And around a month ago I started drinking again," she said.   
  
"And you can't control it?"  
  
"No," Abby said.   
  
"Any feelings of sadness, guilt?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, I... get depressed a lot," Abby said.  
  
"Any weight loss?"  
  
Abby nodded.  
  
"Blackouts?"  
  
"When I drink," Abby said. "But sometimes when I'm working I hear people far away, and then a long time goes by and I don't even notice."  
  
"How about your family? Do you try to avoid them? Are you constantly fighting with them?"  
  
"I don't see my family very much. My, mom is bipolar and both her and my brother live in Florida. I'm not married but I have a boyfriend and I get irritated sometimes and take it out on him," she said.  
  
"How about your friends? Do you avoid them and talking about your problem?"   
  
Abby swiped her hair from her face, "I don't have many friends either, but I haven't talked to them much."  
  
"Any personality changes such as becoming more passive, withdrawn or irritable?"  
  
"Yeah," Abby said.   
  
"Any suicide attempts?"   
  
Abby shook her head, "I've... thought about it though."  
  
"Do you drive under the influence of alcohol, or have had legal problems associated with alcohol abuse?"  
  
Abby looked at the man, who was merely just reading some questions and writing down the answers, "I have a car, and I live alone, so yeah, I drive when I get drunk, and I get pulled over sometimes, but I know how to hide it, so I've never been arrested."  
  
"Any increase in social isolation? Loss of outside interest?"  
  
"Yeah," Abby said.  
  
"Do others disapprove of your drinking? Or have withdrawn from you?"  
  
"Only two people know about my problem, but they don't approve of it," she answered.  
  
"Do you drink to feel comfortable in social situations? Have you been intoxicated at work or feel like you can't perform some tasks?"  
  
Abby scratched her forehead, "I'm a nurse, and when I don't drink I can't do my work very well, and I can't talk to patients the way I used to."  
  
"Have you had to quit work, or be absent from it because of your alcohol abuse?"  
  
"I had to stay at home for a couple of days, but never more than one day," Abby said.   
  
"When was the last time you had a drink?"  
  
Abby thought for a while, "Last night, around 7."  
  
Dr. Spencer looked at her now, "Have you recognized that you have a problem and are willing to live with the rules and regulations of this program for as long as we think it's necessary?" he asked.  
  
Abby took a deep breath, "Yeah."  
  
Spencer seemed plased with her truthful answers, and he gave her the papers back, "Ok, you can sign at the bottom now."  
  
Abby took the papers and signed them quickly.  
  
"Marci said your doctor came with you?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," Abby said. "He's outside."  
  
"Can you ask him to come see me?"  
  
Abby stood up and nodded. She walked out of the room to find Luka sitting in the same place, looking up at the ceiling. When he saw her, he stood up and she walked up to him, "He wants to talk to you now," she said.  
  
Luka nodded and squeezed her arm before walking into the doctor's office. Spencer stood up when he walked in and shook his hand.   
  
"Dr. Kovac? I'm Dr. Spencer. You are Abby's physician?" he asked.   
  
"Yeah, we work in the same hospital," Luka said and sat down.   
  
"Ok, I'm just going to ask you some questions about her personal health, and how it has been changed due to her alcoholism," he said.  
  
"Ok," Luka nodded.   
  
"Have you noticed any changes in her behavior?"  
  
"She has been very depressed, and very quiet. Sometimes she's fine and then all of a sudden starts crying, but she rarely smiles or is happy," Luka said, trying to think back.  
  
"Has she gone to you with any physical problems that happend due to her alcoholism?"  
  
Luka tried to think of that, "She hasn't been in an accident if that's what you mean. But I had to take her to my room once because she had passed out on a bar."  
  
"Any weight loss?"  
  
"Yeah, she's lost around ten or fifteen pounds," Luka said.   
  
"Has her blood pressure changed? Sugar and Iron levels?"  
  
"She's not eating as much as she used to, but no serious malnourishment problems," Luka said, trying to divert that question. He should have checked all that before coming here, but he didn't know they were so thorough about this.  
  
"Is she allergic to any kind of medication? Or suffers from any conditions we should know about?"  
  
"No, I don't think so," Luka said vaguely.  
  
"Ok," Spencer said. "If you think that she needs to be admitted in order to get better, then sign here, and since you're her doctor, we can call you if there's a problem regarding her health."  
  
"Thanks," Luka said, relieved about the fact they could keep him in contact. He signed the paper and gave it back, "Can I call to check up on her?"  
  
"No, we'll call you if there's a problem or we need her medical history," Spencer said and stood up.  
  
"Is that all?" Luka asked, standing up as well.  
  
"Yeah, we're ready to take her in now," Spencer said as they walked out. "I'll send a nurse back for her," he said, shook Luka's hand and walked back into the hallway he came from.  
  
"Thank you," Luka said and turned to the table, where Abby was sitting. He approached her and pulled her up by her hand. "A nurse is coming for you now."  
  
Abby nodded.  
  
"Are you ok?" Luka asked, knowing what that silence was about.   
  
Abby raised her eyebrows and looked down. She played with her fingers and started to feel very scared, so some tears jumped from her eyes.   
  
"Hey," Luka said and wiped them immediately with his thumbs. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "They're not gonna let anything happen to you, ok?" he said and felt her nod. Her felt like a father again, taking his daughter to get a shot.   
  
"I'm sorry I lied to you and that I hurt you," Abby whimpered against the nape of his neck.  
  
"Don't worry about that now," Luka said.   
  
A nurse came in and stood in front of them. "Is this your bag?" she asked Abby and immediately put it on the table to check everything that was inside.   
  
Luka looked at her, but Abby didn't even move. He pushed her off him gently, making her look at him through teary eyes, "You might not believe this, but I'm proud of you. And I'm going to call you when I can."  
  
"Sorry, there's no phone calls," the nurse said. Both Luka and Abby looked at her, "We have a pay phone, and when we think she can call you, she can, but we monitor all the calls."  
  
Luka nodded and turned to Abby, still holding her hand. He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, but the nurse shook her head again.  
  
"I'm sorry, she can't take those," she said.  
  
"She can't smoke?" Luka asked.  
  
"She can, but when and if we think it's necessary, we'll provide the cigarettes," the nurse said.  
  
Luka raised his eyebrows, this was like a convent. "Ok," he said and put the cigarettes back on his pocket. He looked at Abby, "Just hang in there, ok?"  
  
Abby nodded and squeezed his hand. Luka gave her a kiss on the lips, and then on her forehead. He didn't think this was going to be so difficult, but there was a possibility he wouldn't see her again for 30 days or even more. "I'm going to tell Kerry..."  
  
"Just tell her the truth," Abby said. "And if anyone else asks, don't lie."  
  
Luka smiled, "I won't." He kissed her again and the nurse gave Abby her bag.  
  
"Are you ready?" she asked.  
  
Abby took the bag and nodded, and began to walk with the nurse. She turned around to look at Luka for a second, and then kept walking.   
  
Luka shook his head and like a baby, felt his eyes a little moist, so he pressed his hands against them. He looked at the front desk and approached it. Marci the receptionist looked up and he smiled. "Can I come see her?" he asked.  
  
"We have a family day every two weeks. If she wants you to come then she'll sign your name on a sheet, and we'll call you. If she doesn't, then I'm afraid you can't. Don't worry, we'll take good care of her," she said sweetly.  
  
Luka nodded, "Ok," he said and looked towards the hallway, where he could still see Abby and the nurse walking away. He tapped on the counter once or twice, and smiled at Marci. Without looking back towards the hallway, he walked out and drove back to Chicago.  
  
  
To be continued...  



	7. 24 Steps: Part 7

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, only the ones I made up.  
  
Author's notes: I was always a little disappointed that we didn't get to see more of Carter's recovery, that's why I am going to go deep into Abby's. I've never been in a detox center myself, so I hope I'm doing this right. If you have any questions, corrections, or any suggestions, please let me know.  
  
  
  
"24 Steps: part 7" by Carolina  
  
  
"This is your room. Not much in it, but you'll either get used to it or light it on fire. Either way the state pays for it," the nurse said as she showed Abby to her room.  
  
Abby walked in hesitantly and put her bag down, looking at the small room which was only filled with a twin bed, which was covered with white sheets. There was a small dresser, but no mirrors. The walls were white, and there was a small window, but the crystal was sealed shut, and there were bars on both sides. Her mouth was incredibly dry, and she suddenly felt the urge to turn around and go home, after all, she could sign herself out at any time.  
  
She sat on the bed and looked up at the nurse, "Can I get an aspirin or something?" she asked.  
  
"Not yet, honey. There's going to be a meeting at noon where you'll be introduced to the group, until then we're going to send your sponsor in," the nurse said.  
  
"I get a sponsor?" Abby asked.  
  
"We have people who work for us as sponsors. Each sponsor gets around four people each month, a new one every week, so if you need to talk to someone all you have to do is ask and we'll get her," the nurse said with a smile.  
  
"Thanks," Abby mumbled, looking around and wondering how she would feel about being sponsored by a total stranger. She had known her first sponsor for a while before she asked to be sponsored, and even then she felt a little uncertain.  
  
"Well, she'll be here in a while, why don't you set your things," the nurse said before she walked off.  
  
Abby looked around the room as she let out a big sigh and sat back against the back of the bed. How did she ever agree to do this? The first time had been so hard, and this one was no different. She could feel each one of her pores producing a little dome of sweat, and she wiped the little space between her nose and her upper lip to get rid of some. She looked out the window but couldn't see much, just the shadow of a tree rocking back and forth. An overpowering feeling of loneliness crept into her, and fright. What if this didn't work? What if in a couple of days she walked out and went back to Chicago as a loser, when everyone was expecting her to pull through? That idea made her feel even lonelier. Being alone in a new place was one thing; being alone when you're surrounded by people you know and love is another. She knew Carter would be there for her no matter what, and Luka seemed to have proved her wrong twice when she thought he would turn his back on her. But what she was scared of was them reaching their saturation point. That at one point they'd get so tired of her emotional roller coaster ride, that they'd show her the door.  
  
But she tried to turn the tables around. Instead of being scared of being left alone, she used that as an incentive. She owed something big to these two people, that at least would hold her through some of the worst parts. She closed her eyes and mentally gave herself a boost, just as there was a knock at the door and the silence was interrupted.   
  
--------------------  
  
"So she didn't protest at all?" Carter asked as he gave Luka a bottle of water and sat on his couch next to the Croatian doctor.  
  
"No, no, I just came back," Luka said as he grabbed the bottle of water and opened it. "She was the one who said she wanted to quit; I only suggested the detox center, she went willingly."  
  
"Wow," Carter said as he stared into nothingness. "I thought there was something a little off, but I didn't want to think it was this serious."  
  
Luka thought for a moment, neither did he. He was still a little numbed about the whole situation, but concerned. He turned to  
Carter, "Is she going to be in any pain? Are they going to be rough on her?" he asked in a concerned tone.  
  
Carter bit his lip and raised his eyebrows, "Well, she's gonna be... going through withdrawals, I'd say that's the hardest part. But I'm sure they're not gonna let anything bad happen to her. They might be a little rough with the words, but they know what they're doing," he said honestly.  
  
Luka thought for a moment and rubbed his hands together, "I should have stayed with her."  
  
Carter pressed his lips together, "I'm sure she'll be fine, you did the right thing," he said in reassurance.  
  
"I don't know how I'm going to handle this. I mean, having to be strong all the time, it's hard," said Luka.  
  
"Well," Carter began. "I've been on both sides, being an addict and having one in the family. Just be supportive. Remember that no matter how hurt or disappointed you might be on her, she's twice as  
disappointed in herself. She's at the bottom, hates who she is at the moment, that's how I felt," he finished truthfully.  
  
Luka massaged the back of his neck, "I try to be, but how does she know I am?"  
  
Carter smiled, "She knows. Even though her brain can't decode that right now, once she gets better, she'll look back and realize we were."   
  
Luka raised his eyebrows, "When she gets back," he repeated. He hadn't thought of that before. How would things change once she came back? He knew they wouldn't go back to the way they were before she began to drink again, and that scared him. He looked at Carter, "I don't know what to do when she comes back," he admitted.  
  
Well," Carter said. "I can't tell you that. But there's an AA group for family members and friends of alcoholics, I think they meet twice a week. If you want me to, I can get you into the one that meets where my AA meetings are."  
  
Luka nodded, "Yeah, thanks Carter." He thought for a moment, mostly about how much he should have gotten more information about this. He was a doctor, and on top of that, had a peer who knew from experience about this... he chastised himself for not seeking help  
before. "Listen, um, I guess I should apologize about the other day, I knew you were right, I just wasn't thinking straight," he said honestly.   
  
"Don't worry about it," Carter said. "You didn't know what you were doing. I just worry sometimes about what your intentions are."   
  
Luka let out a mirthless chuckle, "Me too."  
  
"I mean, you're dealing with a very unstable person, takes a lot. I just want to know if your heart is in the right place so I can stop worrying about me picking up the pieces when you dump her," Carter said, and felt like he was a father interviewing his daughter's date.   
  
Luka thought for a moment, he really didn't know what to say to that, so thinking about the speech before letting it out was just a waste of time. "I never really thought of this when we dated the first time, and I bet she didn't think about all that happened after that, I mean with me. It just... I don't know, it's really complicated. But I can tell you honestly that I am not using her, I really would never do that," he said and felt like a fool for saying something like that.  
  
"Good," Carter said.  
  
Luka looked at his watch and stood up, "Well, I have to go to work and talk to Kerry."  
  
"What are you gonna tell her?" Carter said as he stood up as well.   
  
"Abby doesn't want me to lie to anyone, so I guess I'll tell her the truth," he said and raised his eyebrows, "I hope she doesn't get into trouble."  
  
"Dr. Weaver will go easy on her, hopefully," Carter said and walked Luka to the door.  
  
Luka turned around, "Well, thanks for everything."  
  
"Good luck," Carter said and watched as Luka walked off, with his hands on his pockets.  
  
-----------------  
  
"Do I really need to be at this meeting?" Abby asked as her and her sponsor walked down a long hall.  
  
"Yeah. We meet every day, and sometimes they let you skip, but you have to be on your death bed to get permission," Renee joked and looked at Abby, who was looking a little pale. "Do you want me to call the nurse? Maybe they can give you something."  
  
"I'm fine," Abby said. "Just a little nauseous."   
  
"Let me know if you have to throw up," Renee said.  
  
Abby nodded and they walked into the big room, which was half full of people. Renee chose a couple of chairs in the front and turned to Abby.   
  
"When you were in grade school, did you like sitting in the back or in the front?" she asked.  
  
Abby flinched at the question, "Um, I never got much rest at home, so I liked sitting in the back so I could sleep in class," she said.   
  
"I always sat in the back too, it wasn't until I came here when I found out the front is so much better," Renee said as she stared at the podium.  
  
Abby turned to her, "You recovered here?"  
  
"Oh yeah, I live here now too. I had a baby when I came in, but they have a daycare center. And this is not too far from anything," she said and looked at Abby, "Do you have kids?"  
  
Abby shook her head, "No."  
  
"Well, they have a house for relatives, mostly women who want to recover but don't have anyone to take care of their kids while they're here. They have another house for spouses too. Are you married?"   
  
"Divorced," Abby said, trying to concentrate on the questions and trying to control her tremors as well. "You know, I really need to lay down," she protested.  
  
"This won't take long," Renee said, knowing what Abby was going through but painfully aware of the rules of the center as well.  
  
A man approached the two of them with a smile, "Hey, Renee," he said and sat next to Renee.  
  
"Hey," Renee greeted. "Abby this is Greg, Greg, Abby."   
  
"Nice to meet you," Greg said and shook Abby's hand.   
  
"Likewise," Abby said, trying to be polite.  
  
"Greg is leaving us after 40 days of treatment," Renee said proudly.   
  
"Well, I'm not staying another 40 if that's what you want," Greg laughed.  
  
Abby looked at them in a weird way. She wondered if once she finished her program she would be as merry as that guy looked. Everyone around here looked the same way, except for the new people, and even they had a shine in their eyes.  
  
A man approached the podium and began a long speech about his  
personal experiences, people he had known, updates about people who had recovered in that place, and so other many things. Abby only heard him far away. Her arms seemed to be locked in a crossing position, and she couldn't stop shaking her foot. Finally, the man announced if anyone wanted to share something with the rest of the group and a couple of people stood up to let everyone know about their experiences. Abby listened to this closely. She had watched carefully as other people spoke on her AA meetings, but those people were recovered, not  
recuperating. These people were vulnerable and scared. They mostly talked about their fears and uncertainties, and she found out that all of them were scared of the same things she was scared about. That made her feel a little better, knowing that she wouldn't be singled out because her problems were different. Most of them were addicted to drugs, others to alcohol. Some had been addicted all their lives, others as little as six months. She felt a stronger connection to those who had been addicted to alcohol since they were teens, like her.   
  
She came back from her trance when she felt Renee standing up next to her, and she looked at her sponsor.  
  
"Hi everyone. For those new ones who don't know who I am, my name is Renee Goldman, and I am a sponsor here," she said and everyone acknowledged her. "Anyway, we have a new patient, her name is Abby Lockhart and I will be working with her for the next month or so, hopefully not longer than 30 days," she added with a smile and looked down at Abby, encouraging her to stand up.  
  
Abby was reluctant, but with her arms crossed in front of her to keep her warm, she stood up, and just waved at the room, everyone  
acknowledged her and she sat back down.  
  
"Welcome, Abby. Well, if no one else has anything to say, you're all free to go," the man in the podium said and walked away to talk to some people.  
  
Abby turned to Renee, "Can I go to my room now?"  
  
Renee looked at her, "Actually, I was kinda hoping we could go for a walk."  
  
Abby shook her head, "I really don't feel up to walking right now," she said.  
  
'Well, I do this with all my addicts the first day, kinda get to know them better, and the walk will do you a lot of good, trust me," Renee said.  
  
Abby shook her head again.  
  
"Here, you can lean on me, we'll all go for a walk," said Greg as he helped Abby up.  
  
Abby let out a sigh, and finally took his arm to get up, and go on that stupid, painful, unnecessary, and very badly timed walk. Her legs were a little shaky, but she scolded them and began to walk. Suddenly Luka didn't seem so bad, compared to these people.  
  
------------------  
  
"Kerry," Luka called out as he walked into the ER, and saw his boss walking from one side to the other.  
  
Kerry, who was holding a bunch of papers, turned to Luka and made a questioning face. "Luka? Where the hell have you been? And where's Abby? If you haven't noticed this is an ER, not your own practice, you can't just walk in here whenever you feel like it," she scolded.   
  
Luka walked up to her, "Actually, I need to talk to you in private," he said and guided her to the lounge before she could say something.   
  
Kerry leaned on the counter and gave him her full attention.  
  
Luka at first thought they'd be sitting down, but she was standing, so he didn't know where to stand. He needed some support, so he leaned on the refrigerator. "Well," he started, not knowing how to really say this. "I don't know if Abby told you this, but she's... was... well, she's an alcoholic," he said carefully.  
  
Kerry nodded, "Yeah, we discussed that when we were going over her contract," she said calmly.  
  
"Well," Luka ran his hand through his neck, and could feel his tension and his sleeplessness where the spine meets the skull. "She, um, last night I had to take her to a rehabilitation center, because she relapsed," he said, but it came out mostly as muttering.   
  
Kerry raised her eyebrows slightly, "Oh," she said, trying to sound casual, although she was very surprised. Suddenly ten million questions came on her mind, and she felt like asking Luka was very inappropriate, but Abby wasn't around, so she had no other choice. "How long has she been drinking?" she asked.  
  
Luka was dreading this, that she would bombard him with questions and he would say something that would get Abby into even more trouble. He didn't want to lie to Kerry either, because then he would have to make up a story with Abby, and then it could get them both fired. So he tried to divert, "Um, I'm not sure, I just... she came to me last night for help, and I told her about the detox center in Rockford, and she agreed, so I took her, I just came back," he said and waited for her reaction.  
  
Kerry nodded understandingly, "When will she be back?"   
  
Luka shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. It's mostly a 30 day program, but it could take longer," he said and shifted on his feet, which caused to change his attitude as well, "Look, Kerry, I know she should have told us earlier, but, just, please don't fire her. This was kinda hard for her to admit, and she's getting help, and..."   
  
Kerry raised her hand to stop him, "Don't worry, Luka. I will deal with everything as soon as Abby comes back. She's under my supervision, not yours. So I will determine how to handle this, ok?" she said casually.  
  
Luka nodded, "I'm an attending too," he said, trying to figure out what she was planning to do.  
  
"But your current relationship with Abby makes it awkward for you to know, or to help me determine what to do. Don't worry," she said as she nodded. Truth was she wasn't planning on firing Abby, or giving her a punishment, after all, she didn't know Abby was drinking at work. But because of Luka's romantic entanglement with Abby, she felt it was very improper for him to be a part of her decision. "So, why don't you just let me know when she is coming back, and tell her we have a meeting and that she has nothing to worry about. And if you talk to her before she comes back, don't tell her about the meeting, that might make the recuperation a little harder, I don't want her to have anything on her mind at this moment." She smiled, "And tell her good luck, and that I hope she's well on her way to recovery," she said. "Now get to work, we have patients waiting out there," she added and walked out of the room.   
  
Luka watched that and raised his eyebrows once she was gone. He was expecting her to go on a rampage about this, because she would be short one nurse. He didn't know Kerry Weaver could be so flexible, Abby was right when she told him there was more to his boss than yelling and scolding.  
  
Patients waiting. He hadn't slept the night before and all this morning, and he could already feel his eyes closing. So he grabbed a cup of coffee and went to his locker to get ready for work.  
  
The door opened again and Chuny walked in. "Hey, Dr. Kovac, where's Abby? Weaver was going crazy about her being late," she said as she went to her own locker.  
  
"Well," Luka said, not knowing how to say this, again. He would have to just make a speech and get ready to tell everyone who asked, over and over again, since Abby didn't want him to lie.  
  
-----------------  
  
A nurse knocked on Abby's door three times before she opened the door and stepped in. "Dinner time," she chirped, looking for Abby on the bed, but saw her on the floor against a corner instead.  
  
Abby didn't even look up, partly because she didn't know if someone was actually there, since her headache was making her deaf; and partly because even if there was someone there, she really didn't give a damn.   
  
"Honey, I got your Antibuse, that'll make you feel better," the nurse said and set the tray on the bed. She walked over and sat next to Abby on the floor, "Abby, you've been here for two days, you should start eating something, the medicine won't work if your stomach is empty.   
  
Abby removed her hand from her sweaty face and pinned it in between her thighs. "What time is it?" she asked as she cleared her throat.   
  
"6:30," the nurse said. "Come on, get up," she added as she stood up herself and pulled Abby's arm.  
  
Abby looked up finally, her eyes dark with exhaustion, each one of her ligaments aching. She finally pulled herself up painfully and sat on the bed, but immediately assumed the fetal position.  
  
"You're lucky you got Renee as your sponsor, anyone else would have you eating in the cafeteria with the rest," the nurse said and gave Abby two pills. "I'll be back for this tray in a couple of minutes, and it better be empty," she added and walked out of the room.  
  
Abby heard her leave and looked at the pills in her hand. With a little difficulty, she sat on the bed and gulped the pills down with a glass of water. She tried to control herself despite the ache and tremors and looked at the food with disgust. She knew if she ate that she would throw it up right away, but she had barely eaten anything since she came in, only fruit. She looked at the spoon. They always gave them just spoons, and the plates were made of paper, never  
crystal or ceramic. Even the tray was just plastic, she figured they didn't want anyone trying to kill themselves or trying to harm  
others. So she grabbed the single spoon and dunk it on the soup, but the shaking hands caused it to spill all over the bed. She put the tray down on the floor and sat next to it, with the tray in front and the wastebasket on her right, she would need it in a matter of seconds.   
  
-----------------  
  
Luka was woken up at who knows what hours of the morning by the annoying screech of the hotel phone. He turned his back on it, thinking it must have been a wrong number, or a mistaken wake up call, or someone downstairs in need of assistance. That last one made him scoff, and face his night table to turn on the lamp and pick up the phone.   
  
"Hello?" his hoarse voice said. He heard a soft whimper and he wrinkled his forehead. "Hello?" he repeated, thinking maybe it was someone's idea of a joke.  
  
"Luka..."  
  
He frowned when a voice softly cried his name, almost inaudible. So he turned up the volume of the phone and sat on his bed. "Who is this?" he asked, his mind confused.  
  
"It's me," Abby cried from the other side.  
  
"Abby?" Luka said quickly and stood up with the phone in one hand and the base in the other. "Are you ok? What's wrong?" he asked hurriedly.   
  
Luka waited for her reply, but only heard her cry and choke up in her own tears.  
  
"Abby? Abby are you ok? Please talk to me." He began to panic, knowing that they wouldn't let her make a phone call so soon. "Abby? Where are you?" he asked again to give her a little boost.  
  
He heard more crying and whining, and then in the middle of that sea of tears, "Luka, I can't do this..."  
  
The words in a soft moan, almost unrecognizable. He sad on his bed, as if she could see the way he was trying to calm her down. "Abby, listen to me," he said first, trying to get her to at least stop crying and listen, but the sobs continued. "Abby? Everybody here is counting on you. We know you can do this, just hang in there, ok?" he added confidently, but felt weak and scared inside. It just broke his heart every time he saw her cry, but even more now that he couldn't put his arm around her to comfort her.  
  
He could still hear her crying, but he didn't know if she was trying to say something, or wanted to say something, so he tried to encourage her. "Abby? Did you hear what I just said?" he asked and listened closely, heard her still crying, and then the insistent beep of the busy line.  
  
"Shit," he muttered as he hung up the phone, and picked it up again to see if he could get her back, but the line was dead.  
  
What to do... What to do... He began to pace around the room and then picked up the phone again, someone down in the reception picked it up. "Yes, is there a way I can get the number of someone who just called me?" Luka asked.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Kovac, we don't provide that service here," the man downstairs said.  
  
Luka shook his head, "Ok, thanks," he said and hung up the phone again. Suddenly, like a lightning bolt, he reached into his suitcase and brought out a small card. He dialed a few numbers and waited.   
  
"Rosecrane Rehab Center, how can I help you?" a woman answered.   
  
"Yes. My name is Dr. Kovac, and one of your patients just called me, Abby Lockhart," he said, not knowing if that was the best entrance.   
  
"All of our patients are asleep at the moment, Dr. Kovac. And the phones are unavailable at night," the receptionist said.  
  
Luka rolled his eyes, "She just called me 5 minutes ago crying. Can you please just check up on her? I don't think she's ok," he said a little too fast, desperate because he couldn't do anything.  
  
The receptionist let out a sigh to let him know she was  
annoyed. "Just a second," she said and turned around on her chair, "Dan? Can you check on Abby Lockhart? I have some guy here claiming she just called him on the phone," she said as she covered the speaker with her hand.  
  
The male nurse looked up and put his magazine down, and began to walk down the hall unwillingly. He finally came face to face with her door and opened it slightly, careful not to let much of the lights go in, in case she was sleeping.  
  
Abby heard the door open and closed her eyes quickly, although her back was facing the door, and as hard as it was, she pretended she was asleep.  
  
The nurse shook his head and closed the door. Some family members would make up any lies to be able to talk to the patients. "She's asleep," he said as he went back to his original position, magazine in hand.  
  
The receptionist picked up the phone, "Abby Lockhart is asleep," she informed.  
  
Luka closed his eyes, "Are you sure?"  
  
"We just checked," she said.  
  
"So she's there?" Luka asked.  
  
"Yes, and she's asleep," the receptionist repeated in a patronizing tone, as if Luka was a child. "Is there anything else we can do for you, Dr. Kovac?"  
  
Luka sat on his bed, thinking. He was her doctor, but he doubted they would give her any special treatment just because he said so. Actually, he was just wondering if they had really checked on her or not, and wanted to know if she was hurting, and why she was crying. "No, no," he finally said reluctantly, and was about to change his mind when the receptionist spoke again.  
  
"Ok, goodnight," she said and hung up the phone.  
  
Luka stared at the receiver for a while before he hung up the phone as well. Letting out a sigh, he put it back on the night stand and looked around. He was scared, and desperate because he couldn't do anything himself. He wasn't imagining things, that really was Abby on the phone, it wasn't a dream. Had they really checked or were they just trying to humor him? He felt useless.  
  
Looking at his car keys, he felt the desire to drive up there  
himself, and check. But what if she called again?  
  
He looked at his watch, and could feel his left foot shaking without his consent. He needed to know everything was ok, or else he wouldn't get any sleep that night, or the preceding. Not that he would get any after a call like that anyway, even when the people at the center just told him she was ok.  
  
He had a strong feeling that she was hurt, though, although he had never been one for six senses like that, so maybe it was just paranoia. But the thought of her being hurt made his heart skip a couple of beats.  
  
'Withdrawals are the worst part,' he heard Carter's voice in his head. Carter! Luka remembered the younger doctor had the night shift.   
  
Without hesitating, he reached the phone and dialed the number to the ER.  
  
"ER, what's your problem?" the monotone voice of Randi came on the line.  
  
"Randi? This is Dr. Kovac. Is Dr. Carter around? I need to talk to him," Luka said.  
  
"Hold on," Randi said and rolled her eyes. Why did doctors always insist on calling themselves 'Doctor'? It's not like she didn't know their names by now. And she didn't walk around calling herself Desk Clerk Randi Fronzack.  
  
Luka waited for a couple of seconds, trying to think of what he would say, after all, Carter was just as clueless about Abby's situation as he was, but he knew more about what she was going through than Luka himself.  
  
"Carter," the resident's voice came on the line.  
  
"Carter? This is Luka," Luka said.  
  
"Yeah," Carter said, having already gotten the message from Randi. "Is everything ok?"  
  
"I don't know," Luka said. "Abby just called me, and she was crying, and suddenly the line was cut off, and I called the center but they said she was asleep," he tried to summarize everything quickly.   
  
Carter took a moment to gather all this information, and then cleared his throat, "What did she say?" he asked, his voice quite calmed. He had gotten used to Luka's repetitive questions of concern, and Carter always tried to answer his best to calm him down.  
  
"She was crying," Luka said, as if that piece of information needed repetition. "And she said she couldn't go through with the detox, and then she got cut off, or, or, she hung up, I don't know."  
  
Carter frowned, "Did she say she wanted out?" he asked.   
  
"No," Luka said.  
  
"Ok, that's good. It's actually... uh... normal to say things like that, and feel like you can't do it, particularly at night, because she's all alone in her room, and it's dark. If she didn't say she wanted out then I wouldn't worry much about it, she's just scared," Carter said as he reviewed some charts.  
  
"But the conversation was cut off? What if she was going to say that next?" Luka asked, pressing the issue.  
  
Carter shook his head, "She would have said that first."   
  
Luka was still reluctant, "But what about the call? They said the phones were unavailable at night."  
  
Carter raised his eyebrows, "I don't know."  
  
"They said they checked and she was asleep. She can't be asleep, she called 10 minutes ago," Luka said, his own words making him paranoid. "What if they didn't check? What if she ran away?"   
  
"Calm down, Luka. If she had run away, she would have asked you to go pick her up. These people know what they're dealing with. Trust me, they checked. And maybe she just broke into the room where the phones are, who knows? But don't jump to conclusions like that. You have to trust these people, otherwise you're going to lose your mind," Carter said convincingly.  
  
Luka exhaled, knowing Carter was right. Funny how he used to pick fights with Abby about her being Carter's sponsor, and now it was him who was going to the resident every time he needed some reassurance. That ought to teach him to be selfish in the future. "Sorry, Carter, it just..."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Carter interrupted. "I once called my grandma to tell her the same thing."  
  
Luka smiled and let out a breath, "Thanks."  
  
"No problem," Carter said. "Hey, listen, we have a trauma coming in a few minutes, I gotta go."  
  
"Ok, thanks Carter," Luka breathed.  
  
"Alright, man. See you later," Carter said before he hung up the phone.  
  
Luka laid down on his bed and turned off the lamp, but kept staring at the ceiling. Having talked to Carter helped, but still something he said was prickling on the back of his neck. That was Abby being alone in her room, in the dark. That wasn't a good metaphor, he reckoned. He had seen those rooms, merely a bed surrounded by white paint, nothing else, while he was here in a hotel room with free room service, all warm and cozy. He let out a sigh and turned on his side. He really hoped and wished Abby would let him come visit her in a week and a half.  
  
He closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep, but none would come. He kept hearing Abby's cries on his mind, and he couldn't turn it off. Thoughts of Abby curled up on her bed, in pain, and crying danced around in his head, and he knew he would have to knock himself  
unconscious in order to get some sleep.  
  
So he stood up and grabbed a set of keys from his night table. He knew if he stayed here, all those thoughts would still be coming, but if he went to her apartment, surrounded by her things and sleeping on her bed would make him feel better, it always did.  
  
  
To be continued...  



	8. 24 Steps: Part 8

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, only the ones I made up.  
  
  
  
"24 Steps: Part 8" by Carolina  
  
  
"Luka! That leg lac is still waiting in 5," Kerry barked as she walked into the admit area to erase a name she had just discharged.   
  
Luka looked over his shoulder from the computer. "Yeah, I'll be right there," he said and stared at the back of her head for a moment. He finally tapped on the counter and walked over. "Kerry, I still need Saturday off."  
  
"I know, I said I was going to think about it, Luka," Kerry said and walked away.   
  
Carter wrinkled his forehead when he saw his boss in such a bad mood and approached Luka. "Did they call you yet?"  
  
Luka looked at the young doctor with an expression of ignorance for a second and then shook his head. "No," he said in disappointment. He had been on the edge since he dropped Abby off, waiting for that call which would allow him to go visit her this weekend and had even called up there to give them an alternate phone number, but his many phones hadn't made a sound all week.   
  
He smiled faintly at Carter and then grabbed a chart to go and fix that leg lac.   
  
Carter followed behind. "You know, if they don't call you it doesn't mean that she doesn't want you there."  
  
"I know," Luka said quickly and defensively.  
  
"I mean, she has a lot of things to work on, and the last thing..."  
  
"I know, Carter," Luka said again, this time a little harsh.  
  
Carter raised his hands up as a truce. "Alright," he said and walked away.   
  
Luka immediately felt like a scum, but instead of apologizing, he walked into exam 5. "Hello, Mr. Cummings..."  
  
--------------------  
  
Abby sat on a small bench outside, feeling the breeze tumble her hair and writing things down on a notebook. She had a cigarette in her left hand, and an old pen in the other. Blue. She hated blue ink, but that was all they gave her, so she had to settle for seeing all the things she had to tell herself being printed down by old, disgusting, blue ink.   
  
"Hi, Abby."  
  
Abby looked up and gave a fake smile, and immediately closed her notebook.   
  
"Writing on your journal?"  
  
Abby nodded, a fake smile still pasted on her face. She had forgotten just how curious recovering addicts were, and this place was no different. Ben was the first person who talked to her, other than Renee. Not because he needed someone, not because he could tell Abby needed someone, but probably because the shirt she was wearing that day was a little too tight, and it was a little too cold. She had tossed it away that same night.   
  
"I don't use mine much, I'd rather just talk to my sponsor, he's a cool guy," he said and sat next to Abby.  
  
Abby took a long puff of her cigarette and turned to him. She could tell he wasn't a bad guy, just an idiot. He was one of these men who hit on virtually every single woman they met, but could probably not hold an orgasm for five seconds. She had met men like that, at the hospital, on her way home, but mostly on bars. She wondered what Ben's reaction would be if she suddenly pressed her body against his; he'd most likely start crying and go to his room.   
  
"You know, Ben, I was really in a moment here, and now I've lost my train of thought," she said harshly.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized but didn't have the courtesy to leave her alone. Instead, he got more comfortable on his seat. On the background, a few people's singing could be heard, and Ben just shook his head. "God, I hate that fucking chanting."  
  
"Maybe you should join them," Abby said, looking forward and playing with her cigarette.  
  
"How is singing some shit ass Bible verse going to help us when we get the hell out of here? I've done this fucking program 4 times, trust me, it doesn't," Ben went on and on about the chanting.  
  
Abby took another puff of her cigarette. She wished that for one second, he would stop cussing, for at least 3 consecutive sentences, but that seemed to be the extent of his vocabulary. "If you don't think this program works then why do you keep coming back?"  
  
"Isn't this your second time?" Ben asked and watched her. "Why do *you* keep coming back?"  
  
"I've never been in a rehab center," Abby said nonchalantly, just waiting for him to leave her alone.  
  
Ben looked forward, "I keep thinking that if I come back they'll maybe let me crash permanently, food's not bad at all."  
  
Abby smiled and nodded, and stood up. "See you around, Ben."  
  
Ben watched her go and then stood up to follow her, "You know, I really think us alcoholics should hang out more often, you know? Just sort of stay away from the junkies."  
  
Abby stopped, and he did as well. "Ben, I am really having a bad day, can you please just leave me alone?" she barked.   
  
Ben smiled, "You look really hot when you're mad."  
  
"Ugh," Abby grunted and walked away, leaving him behind. Everywhere she looked, there was someone already there, looking at her as if they wanted to talk to her, trying to save her, or just engulf her in meaningless conversation, they were all Bens. It made her sick, literally. She couldn't even tell what day it was anymore, not that she cared. All she wanted to do was just get out, find the closest bar and let the demons inside of her take control of her life, it was just so much easier that way. She was sick of the singing, the praying, the holding hands, the meetings, the cheap slogans, the sharing, the wake up calls, the cleaning, the bad food, the claustrophobic room they had given her, the decaf coffee, the brand of cigarettes which were not hers, the staff, her shaking hands, her headaches, her tremors, her nausea... she hated it all, and writing things down in a cheap notebook would not help, nothing was helping.   
  
All of a sudden she was in her room, and she did not know how she had gotten there. Her hands opened her bathroom door and her torso reached the toilet intuitively. She let it all out. All her breakfast was flushed, like her dinner, and her lunch. She laid there for a while, hugging the toilet, the only thing she had truly and genuinely hugged since she had gotten there. She could smell her own vomit even after it was flushed, and she still tasted it on her mouth, and still rising on her stomach. Then her shaking hands. She couldn't even remember what her hands were like when they were not shaking; if they were too small or average, if her fingers were long and feminine or stubby.   
  
She wiped her dry mouth and knelt next to the sink to wash it with tepid water. Whose idea was to seal the windows shut? Air was scarce, and all she could do at the moment was lay on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. She tried to think of good things; easy does it, one day at a time, first things first, live and let live, drinking never achieved anything, stay in control, with God all things are possible, all it takes is the will to stop drinking, raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens... Ben was right, that bullshit was not helping at the moment. She felt the cold tiles against her cheek, and each one of her muscles felt like they were 7 tons.   
  
Her hands were still shaking and one of them reached the "hot" knob of the tub, and she turned it all the way. Her sensory nerves immediately alarmed her brain, and she winced in pain, that only caused her hands to shake more.   
  
-------------------  
  
Luka sat on an incredibly small chair, in an incredibly small room which was incredibly filled with people. He realized he was the only one with a pad and pen, and that made him feel apprehensive, so he put them away. Most everyone seemed to know each other already, but the only thing he had made closed friends with was his coffee, which filled a cheap Styrofoam cup.   
  
He crossed his right leg over his left, and at the same time, a woman walked into the room and everyone became silent. She closed the door and walked to a small desk in the front of the room, and after grabbing a couple of papers, she put her back pack down. The chairs were in a circle, but there were so many that most were forced to create a cluster behind the main circle... Luka made sure his was on the back.  
  
After she talked and said hello to some people, the woman who was in charge finally decided to begin. "Ok, this is room 151, and you are all in 'Family Members and Friends of Alcoholics', in case you are wondering why no one is smoking."   
  
Everyone laughed, but Luka didn't get it.   
  
"For those of you who don't know me, my name is Kathy and if you stay with this group I will always be in charge. Anyway, we seem to have gotten the small room, but, um, RR needed a bigger one tonight, so we will be back to our usual room next week." She nodded, looking around the room, and then looked down at the papers she was holding in her hands. "Before we start, I would like to welcome those of you who have never been here before, we hope tonight is enough to make you want to come back. And, um, I have a couple of announcements to make."  
  
Luka shifted on his seat as the woman went on and on about upcoming activities, and charities they were supporting. He looked around, everyone's faces concentrated just on her. They all looked like your average person, and, although some of them looked a little saddened, most were incredibly well rested. At the same time that he looked at a man two chairs away from him, the man looked at him, and they exchanged greetings with a nod before Luka looked back to the woman in the front.   
  
"If you want to be a part of the 'Meals on Wheels' program, you can come talk to me at the end of tonight's meeting," she said and put the papers down to sit on one of the chairs in the main circle. "Ok," she said and cleared her throat. "I see some new faces on the back, anyone would like to share their reason for being here?"  
  
---------------  
  
"I think, I mean, my family loved throwing parties, and they were what you would call nowadays "social drinkers". My mom loved those parties, just another way to show the elite community just how likeable us Roberts were. I think the first time I used cocaine I was around 15, or something. My friends gave it to me. I mean, my parents used to be hippies, and they did all kinds of stuff, so it was ok for me to do it as well. Plus, once you start using the fucking thing you can't stop."  
  
Abby looked at the man talking, but she could rarely hear him. They were forced to do this every night, break into groups of 10 or so and just talk; tonight she had come early to take the only comfortable chair, so she could press her legs against her chest, a position which helped her control herself some more. Everyone in the room seemed to be listening, or at least pretending to. She didn't want to listen. The last thing she needed to hear was how some one else had screwed up their life and was now, with the help of God, trying to get back on the right track. All she needed was a cigarette, a good cigarette, not those light things they passed around. Or candy. She would walk out of here not craving alcohol but addicted to sweets.  
  
"I mean, I used it every night, and when you reach that place, it's just easier to stay that way. I mean, I fucking knew what people in rehab were like, shaking, and puking their guts out, and fucking begging for one more shot. That wasn't appealing, and it's still not appealing. I mean, at least when I was using I was gone half the time, you know? I wasn't feeling a fucking thing." He laughed nervously.   
  
"I think Brad brings up a good point: why recover?" the woman in charge, Beth, said.   
  
A woman raised her hand, and she was acknowledged. "I mean, I think I would rather be sober, because that way I can control the things I do, and even the cravings, I can shut off for a couple of minutes. And then like, the people you are close to want to be close to you, because you are more likeable and less likely to make an ass of yourself when you're sober."  
  
"Good, that's good, Judy. Anyone else?" Beth asked again.   
  
Abby looked form the person on her right to the person on her left, rocking on her chair and playing with a strand of her hair repeatedly, just waiting for one of them to give out a reason so she could go to bed and they could all wake up and do the same thing over and over.   
  
"Abby?"  
  
Abby looked up as if she had just come to life.  
  
"We haven't heard from you tonight, can you give us a reason to stay off drugs or alcohol?"   
  
Abby repositioned her legs under her, and felt as the blood began to flow through her veins again, making her legs feel a little cold. She didn't give much thought to the question. "I guess you can work better when you're sober."  
  
"Meaning that through nursing, you can help those who are in your position right now, something you couldn't do if you were drunk," Beth said.   
  
Abby nodded. "Sure."   
  
"You know, I don't think she even thought about that for 2 seconds," a man said.   
  
"Eddie, emotions," Beth said.   
  
"Well, that is my reason to stay sober," Abby said to the man, this was certainly not her day.  
  
"Didn't sound like it," Ben said. "I mean, I just told you all I haven't had sex in two years and I think I wanna hear something a little more juicy than work is the only thing that keeps you sober. I mean, just because you're having a bad day doesn't mean that you have to take it out on us."  
  
"Shut up, Ben," Abby hissed.  
  
"Abby, let Ben express his emotions," Beth said.   
  
Abby sprung forward, "He's not expressing his emotions, he's just sitting there and trying to make me say something he wants to hear, like the size of my bra or how long it's been since *I* had sex," she snapped.  
  
"And that makes you angry?" Beth asked soothingly.  
  
"Of course it makes me angry!..."  
  
"Good, Anger," Beth said and wrote the word on the board.   
  
"...You know, I sit here all night, listening to whatever you people have to say and I NEVER try to contradict anyone of you or even fucking question your reasons for being sober or for drinking, using, or whatever. And if I can't do the same, well, THEN MAYBE I SHOULDN'T BE HERE!" she yelled again, stood up to walk out, slamming the door after her.   
  
"I think we should send her to another group," Eddie said, a few agreed.   
  
---------------   
  
"Um, hi, my name is Martha," an overweight woman stood up shyly. Her hair was unkempt and her eyes weary.   
  
"Hi Martha," people said, but none at the same time, and it just sounded like a collective mumble.   
  
"This is my first time here, but I'm certainly not new to this whole process. Well, um, my husband is an alcoholic, and um, he's doing the program... for the third time." She chuckled miserably after that. "Anyway, um, I-I guess it all started when Danny was a kid, his father was an alcoholic, and he was abusive towards his wife, and then Danny grew up with that, and he was drinking even before he could drive." She lowered her stare for a moment, looking at her playing fingers. "We met through some friends, and I fell in love with him immediately... we were married the next year." She smiled, "We have three sons, and um, I guess I noticed there was a problem when um, we were at a party, I was pregnant with my second son, and Danny got so drunk that he got in the car and drove home without us, and we had to stay at our friends'... I didn't even have diapers," she said and began to softly cry. "He keeps saying that the third time is a charm, but I'm so scared that my sons will grow up to be alcoholics themselves."  
  
Someone next to her stood up and put his arm around her, only to make her sit down on the chair.   
  
"Thanks for sharing with us, Martha, and I hope you keep us informed about your husband's progress," Kathy said.  
  
Luka kept staring at the woman who had just spoken with contempt, and even kept looking at her after she had sat down and another person stood up to tell the story of their life. He couldn't even count the number of times he had met women like her, and just how many times he had begged them to leave their spouse. He wasn't so sure about that now. He wasn't sure leaving was a solution anymore. He had been so sure before, now he just didn't know.   
  
------------------  
  
Another slamming of the door and Abby was in her room again. She wanted to scream, or cry, or at least punch a wall, but she knew that since they didn't give out drugs to anyone, she would have to live with the pain of a broken hand. She paced around the room for a while, feeling the space shrink more and more around her, and her incapable of doing something about it. She probably should have been thinking about what her punishment would be for walking out of the meeting like that, but she didn't care about it at the moment. Today had probably been one of the worst days of her life, and she had had a lot of bad days in her lifetime. The previous days had gone ok, and the day before she had even felt like she could do this. But then, she woke up on the wrong side of the bed and she was suddenly cussing and storming out of rooms and even burned her hand with hot water. That wasn't normal, but then again, rarely anything was normal around here.   
  
The only thing she could do at the moment to put herself out of her misery was strip out of her clothes and turn on the cold water, and torture herself until the morning came and she maybe attempt to wake up on the right side of the bed.  
  
------------------  
  
"Luka, I'm sorry but I'm gonna have to put you down on the schedule for Saturday, I need someone with enough experience to cover during the day," Kerry said when she saw Luka sitting on the front desk, reading a chart.   
  
Luka wanted to protest, to tell her his reasons, and to let her know that there were enough doctors around here to cover the ER. But dammit, Kerry knew his reasons. She knew why he wanted Saturday off and she herself had said Abby needed someone there. Before he could argue his case, though, Kerry was gone and a gurney was rushed in. He tried to put all that anger aside and walked towards the paramedics. "What have you got?"  
  
"Single MVA, auto collided against a downtown building. This is Rich Burdon, age 36, complains of pain to the chest and tenderness in his right leg and left arm. BP is 90/70, pulse 120."  
  
Cleo saw this and approached them. "Need any help?"  
  
Luka looked at her as they wheeled the gurney in, "Couldn't hurt."  
  
"Where am I?" the man asked.   
  
"You are in the hospital, sir, we're going to take care of you," Luka said. "On my count, one, two, three."  
  
"Sir, have you had anything to drink?" Cleo asked the man.  
  
"What?" he slurred.  
  
"That answers the question," she said and removed the collar.   
  
Luka looked at her and then down at the man, "Call radiology, Lydia."  
  
"Let's do a lavage while we're at it, I'll call the police," Cleo added.   
  
Luka looked up at her again, "Why?"  
  
"He's drunk, we have to report all drunk drivers," she said.   
  
Luka shook his head, "Don't call them yet."  
  
Cleo turned to Lydia and nodded for her to call them.   
  
Luka saw that, "Lydia get back here!"  
  
"Luka, don't start," Cleo protested.   
  
Luka just looked at Lydia, "Don't call the police," he hissed as he listened to the man's chest with his stethoscope, all eyes fixated on him.   
  
----------------  
  
"How are you feeling?" Renee said as she walked into Abby's room to find her on the bed.   
  
Abby peeked her head out of the book she was reading and put it down on her stomach. "I'm ok, thanks."  
  
Renee sat on the bed, "Still craving?"  
  
Abby smiled, "I was sober for 5 years, never stopped wanting a drink."  
  
"Yeah, stupid question, huh?" Renee said and her friend just pressed her lips together. She looked around the room for a while and then back at Abby. "Heard about your little outburst last night."  
  
Abby let out a sigh and looked up, "Look, I was just having a bad day, ok?" she said sharply.  
  
"We all have bad days, Abby. Do you think it's easier for those people out there? It's not, but they're here because they want to better themselves. And if you want to better yourself you have to DO the program," she scolded.   
  
"Thanks for the advice," Abby mumbled.  
  
Renee calmed herself down for a moment, and then lowered her stare. "Look, I don't like coming in here and talking to you like I'm your mother. You're a grown woman, and you have common sense, you know what to do."  
  
Abby looked at her book for a moment and then looked up at her, "So what's my punishment?"  
  
Renee looked at her intensely, "Just don't walk away from meetings again," she said, stressing every word.  
  
Abby smiled, "Thank you."  
  
"And if anyone asks, just tell them I made you clean the toilets," Renee joked. "So how come you're in here? It's a nice day outside, you can help us with the Welcome sign."  
  
Abby, who had gone back to her book, didn't even look up, "There's enough people doing that."  
  
Renee paused, "I have some make up in my place, I can fix you up for tomorrow."  
  
Abby looked up, "That's not gonna be necessary."  
  
Renee nodded, "You don't have anyone visiting?"  
  
Abby shook her head with a fake smile.   
  
"How come?" Renee asked.  
  
Abby closed her book and sat up, looking flustered and annoyed. "It's, just personal, ok?"   
  
"Well," Renee said and stood up, tapping Abby's knee, "I don't know about your personal life, but I can tell you how it feels to see everyone out there having fun with their family members and friends while you are alone in your room, with a book you're not even concentrating on, and I can tell you that it is one of the most awful feelings. So, if you want, I can at least get you the keys to the TV room so you don't hear us outside," she added and walked out of the room.   
  
Abby threw her an annoyed look once Renee was gone. "Reverse psychology, ha! I know more about that than you, sweetie," she mumbled to herself as she began to read her book again.   
  
-----------------------  
  
"Luka!"  
  
Luka threw his head back in annoyance when he heard Kerry's voice again, she seemed to have a liking on his name, particularly screaming it. So he turned around.  
  
"I heard what happened in the trauma room," Kerry said as she approached him. "Care to share the reason as to why you refused to call the cops on that man?"  
  
"The cops came anyway, so that's not important anymore," he mumbled, looking through his locker, ready to go home.   
  
"I think it is," Kerry said. "Because that man was so drunk, he could have killed someone on the road."  
  
"He didn't," Luka said, tired of having to explain every single one of his actions.   
  
Kerry watched him for a moment and then shifted on her feet, "So what were you planning on doing? Hm? Send him up to rehab?"  
  
Luka closed his locker door and turned to her, "Why not?"  
  
Kerry smiled sarcastically, "You're serious."  
  
Luka put on his jacket and walked pass her, "Night, Kerry," he mumbled and walked out of the room. For some reason, he just felt like walking home, even though home was pretty far away. There were two sets of keys in his pockets, Abby's and his. They didn't call. Family day was tomorrow and he would have to come to work thinking that his help didn't mean anything to Abby, that she didn't need him because she had found people who had gone through what she was going through and his help was no longer necessary there. Maybe it never was?  
  
The night was cold, and he adjusted his jacket tightly. The sun was probably out in Croatia. He hadn't thought about that for a long time, he hadn't thought about his family or his old friends, or his dad. The last few weeks had been like going through a worm whole in space. He went from point A to point C without going through point B. He had other priorities, different point of views and opinions. Normally when that happened he moved away, to another city or country. He couldn't do that now. He would have to go through that change with an audience. He already had, and he hated it.  
  
As he opened the door to Abby's apartment building, he thought about the drunk driver, and Cleo. He didn't want to think about it, but it was pushing into his thoughts. He really did think that man could change. He really did think he deserved a second chance. If he didn't, well, where would Abby be right now?  
  
He shook his head as he unlocked her door, and rushed inside to stop a ringing to her phone.   
  
--------------------  
  
Luka took a deep breath as he saw a tall bell tower out in the distance, becoming bigger as his car sped. His heart wanted out of his chest, and the only thing he could do to control it was tap on the wheel with his fingers while taking short but deep breaths. He was on the edge of making a U-turn to go home, but he just blinked twice and accelerated. He began to wonder if someone from her family would be there. Her brother was in Florida, and her mother hadn't turned up, he knew the last person Abby would want there was Maggie. Still, a cousin? An old friend? He doubted it. In a way, he wanted someone else to be there so it wouldn't be as awkward as he had the suspicion it would be. Carter had gracefully accepted to trade schedules with him, so he would have to fly solo.   
  
The left turning signal began to blink and he still didn't know what he would say. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable, but he knew that was inevitable; he would most likely put his foot in his mouth.   
  
As he turned off the engine, he looked around the parking lot, which was filled with cars, and expecting family members and anxious kids running towards the doors to see their mother or father, an uncle. Luka closed his eyes and counted to three, and his left hand opened the door to meet the right and help it carry the light brown teddy bear and the rose he had gotten. The rose he bought in a red light on his way over, and the teddy bear at a gift shop next to Abby's apartment building, he had removed its 'Get well' t-shirt. For some reason, Carter's speech about Abby being scared at night had hunted him relentlessly, so he wanted her to have something she could sleep with, to protect her and cuddle up to her and make her nights feel less lonely.  
  
He locked his car and made his way to the center. There was a big welcome banner above the doors, and as he walked in, he recognized the receptionist he had met when they came in that memorable night. He nodded a greeting and kept walking, following the paper arrows which were taped to the walls and directed him to the yard. Now that he had been inside, he decided that it was a pretty big place. Different floors for men and women, and different wings for addicts, sponsors, family members and the staff.   
  
A big archway appeared in front of Luka and he walked through, only to be outside again. There was nothing special. No balloons, or signs, or cartwheels with clowns; just trees, chairs, some benches, and a huge table filled with food. That was as far as he could see, though, because the whole thing went on for what seemed like miles.   
  
His eyes immediately began to search for Abby, whom he couldn't see anywhere. A little girl was looking at the teddy bear with a yearning in her eyes, but Luka just smiled and held the bear closer. His muscles finally tensed up when he spotted Abby. She was talking to a man and a woman, and their conversation seemed comfortable and inviting, Abby was even smiling. She hadn't gained the pounds she had lost, and she was looking pale, that made him bite his lip. But she was wearing black pants he hadn't remembered packing for her, along with a white shirt and a black cardigan over it.   
  
He hesitated for a moment, and then walked over. Abby looked his way and then back at her friends, and then back when she realized Luka was there. She gave him a weak smile, and without excusing herself, she turned away from her friends and walked up to meet him halfway.   
  
Luka literally felt like someone had dropped acid all over his stomach, he still didn't know what to say to her. She was probably five feet away, four, three, two...  
  
"Hey, Abby," someone shouted and it made her break her concentration.   
  
"Hey, Ben," Abby said, less than enthusiastically.   
  
"Play's about to start, wanna come?" he said, eying Luka.  
  
"Um, no, why don't you tell me how it goes later, ok?" Abby said sweetly, thinking Ben always chose the worst moments to submerge.   
  
"Alright," Ben said and turned to Luka. "I'm Ben," he said and extended his hand. "We don't use last names here."  
  
Luka smiled and extended his free hand, "I'm Luka."  
  
"Alright, nice to meet you, man," Ben said and gave Abby a knowing look before he disappeared into the center.  
  
Abby looked at Luka and smiled, "Sorry, he's a little..."  
  
"It's ok," Luka said with that big smile on his face. He suddenly looked down at his hands, "Um, I brought you these."  
  
Abby looked at the bear and the rose, and took them in her hands, smelling the rose under her nose. "Thank you," she said and got on her tip toes to give Luka a hug. She had craved this ever since he left. No one could hug like Luka, with such delicacy but so firm. She felt safe like this, as if his strong arms could protect her from anything that could come to her, even her mother. Luka took a long breath of her scent and held her close, feeling her vulnerability even through her breathing. She had been so strong when he met her, and even after they began dating. Now, she was basically torn to pieces, so weak and insecure, like a castle made of cards. He pulled back and kissed her briefly with a smile, her lips cold against his.   
  
Abby smiled and looked around, "You wanna, um, sit?"  
  
"Sure," Luka said and let her walk him somewhere which was not in the middle of the grounds. He realized that at the end of the yard, a forest began, something that couldn't be seen from the road. There was probably a river down there, or a lake... these places were always built around nature like this. Abby found a nice little swing which he was surprised was even available and she sat down, and so did he. He smiled at her, "I didn't think you would let me come," he joked.   
  
Abby scratched her neck and looked down, "I didn't want you to come."  
  
"Why?" Luka asked.   
  
Abby shrugged her shoulders and looked around.  
  
"You don't have to be embarrassed," he said, looking for her stare.   
  
Abby finally looked at him, still with a smile on her face, "I know, it's just, um, I don't know."  
  
Luka nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. He looked around at all the people, and really couldn't tell the addicts from the family members, except for the kids. "So," he looked at Abby again and gave her a nervous questioning look, "How do you like it here?"  
  
Abby raised her eyebrows, "It's ok, I mean, um, just, um... well aside from not being able to drink or take drugs, I guess it's ok. I mean, they make us pray all the time, and sing, and do all these things like hug each other all the time, and, um, you know."  
  
Luka nodded, noticing she wasn't even sure of what she was saying anymore, but that was probably all part of the process, or she was nervous because he was there? She was shaking her hand back and forth as she spoke, as if it would help the words come out much faster, and she took a deep breath practically after every two words. He was familiar with it, but had never thought he'd see her crumbled like that.   
  
"Praying is good," he finally said, trying to break the silence.   
  
"Yeah," Abby said and nodded, and put her hands down.  
  
Luka looked at her head, which had around 5 braids from the front and pinned in the middle of her hair, the rest of it down. "I like your hair," he said, letting her know that.  
  
Abby touched her hair as an impulse. "Oh, um, this girl, she's 17 and she wants to be a hair stylist for the stars, heroine addict. She likes doing things with my hair, and, um, I let her because it keeps her, you know, in control." She smiled.  
  
"It's beautiful," Luka said.   
  
Abby let out a nervous chuckle, "I, we only have mirrors in one bathroom, I haven't looked at myself in days."  
  
"You're beautiful," Luka said, which was true, despite how pale and white her skin looked, and how tired her eyes seemed. "What happened to your hand?" he asked after he noticed a little red scar forming in the back of it.  
  
Abby looked down at it and rubbed it with her left hand. "Um, I had an accident with the hot water," she said.  
  
Luka nodded and took her hand to take a closer look at it, "Did you put something on it?"  
  
"No, it's really not that big of a deal," she said, trying to change the subject. "So I guess Carter couldn't make it, huh?"  
  
Luka looked up, but still held her hand, "Abby did you hurt yourself?" he asked carefully.   
  
"No!" Abby said and removed her hand from his, but he held the left one instead. She didn't want to make a scene, and she certainly didn't want to be mad, so she shook her head. "I, these showers are crazy, and the hot water is always too hot, and I didn't know that, so when I was testing it, you know, it just."  
  
"Ok," Luka said nodding. He could tell she was lying, but decided to let it go. "Well, Carter is working for me, because Weaver has been crazy."  
  
"Did you tell her what I told you?" Abby asked, a little worried.   
  
"Yeah, she said it was ok, and everyone sends their support and love," he said, rubbing her hand with his thumb.   
  
"I don't know how I'm gonna face them now," she said as she looked down at one of the buttons of his shirt.   
  
"They all just can't wait to see you, Abby, don't worry about that," Luka tried to reassure her. Abby looked up and smiled, and Luka looked back when he heard a man playing a song with a guitar. "You have entertainment."  
  
"Yeah, that's Paul, they let him bring his guitar, but no one let him know just how awful he is," Abby said.   
  
Luka chuckled, "He's not that bad."  
  
"Yeah, well, you should hear our singing sessions, they're just..." she said and shook her head.   
  
"What else do you do here?" Luka asked. He had been curious about this since he dropped her off, trying to know just how you keep a person busy so they won't think of drugs. Maybe if he got her to sing at home more often, he could help her some more.   
  
"Oh, well, um, next week we are going mountain climbing, I mean, me and my group."  
  
"Your group?" Luka asked.   
  
"My bonding group, we meet every night to talk and stuff, and, um, I guess they want us to climb a mountain so we can feel better about ourselves and feel like we can achieve everything," Abby said as if she had done that a million times. "And, um, then we have to keep things in this journal, like, just write everything we feel and think all day, it's," she added and shook her head.   
  
Luka chuckled and he looked down, wanting to ask so many things. It seemed like even if she answered all of his questions, it still wasn't enough. He was still working on the fact that she was here, and he was in Chicago, and that she was an alcoholic, and living with drug addicts which sang and chanted their withdrawals away.   
  
"So," he said nervously. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Abby looked at him and shrugged her shoulders, "I've been better."  
  
Luka stared at her for a moment, her smile vanished and her vulnerability back. He wanted to get her to talk about what she was feeling, maybe ask him to get her out of here. "Are they giving you something for the withdrawals?" he asked.   
  
Abby shook her head, "No, um, we just live on smuggled cigarettes, and, um, they have a store in the back, so I've been eating candy a lot," she smiled, "You know, like hard candy, and chocolate, it's the only thing I don't throw up."  
  
Luka brought his hand up and caressed her hair. He felt so sorry for her. He didn't want to, because he knew that was the last thing she wanted from him, pity. But he still felt bad.   
  
"Still, you know, they sell cigarettes sometimes, but I never make it in time, and they only take cash, so," she added.   
  
Luka smiled, "Well, maybe I can get you a few things before I leave." He shook his head after a pause. "So," he took a deep breath, "What was that phone call?" That had been in his mind a lot, and had made him lost some sleep. He watched as Abby's smile vanished again.   
  
"I'm sorry about that, I just..."  
  
"It's ok," Luka said.   
  
"I stole my sponsor's cell phone, and it ran out of batteries," she said with a chuckle.   
  
Luka smiled, "I thought they let you make phone calls."  
  
"Not very often," Abby said. "I just, um, that night I was, you know, feeling very bad, and I needed to, um, just hear your voice for at least a second," she said in a low tone, almost as a cry.  
  
Luka saw her lower her head and immediately pulled her close. "Hey, it's ok, uh?" he cooed.   
  
"I'm sorry," Abby sniffed against his shirt.   
  
"It's ok," Luka said and pulled back, watching her shaking fingers clean out a tear. His hands helped her own. "Please don't cry." He kissed her forehead. "You want to go get some candy?"   
  
Abby sniffed and looked up, "What?"  
  
"In that store, come on," Luka said and stood up, bringing her with him.   
  
Abby grabbed the bear and the rose and grabbed Luka's hand, her depression gone.   
  
Luka looked at her and smiled as they made their way through all the people. "So where's your room?" he asked her to get her thinking of something else.   
  
"Um, it's- on the other side. I'd show it to you but, um, they don't let us bring men or women to the rooms," she explained.   
  
Luke nodded, "I get it."  
  
"No, it's not because of us, well, um, some are sex addicts, so..."  
  
"Sex addicts?" Luka asked, slightly amused.   
  
"Yeah," Abby chuckled, "Like we aren't all."  
  
Luka laughed as they entered a small store which looked like a candy factory, but mostly just had magazines, books, food, soda, juice and a lot of gum.   
  
"Abby, I was wondering when you were going to come back," a woman behind the counter said.   
  
Abby looked up but didn't smile, "I ran out of cash."  
  
"I got a cargo of cherry Jolly Ranchers just for you," she said and pointed to a box behind her.   
  
"Thanks, Rose."  
  
Luka walked around the small store, gathering virtually every kind of candy he could see and throwing it into a basket as Abby checked out some magazines. There were kids all over the place, looking at things their parents would not buy. After he made sure there was more than enough, he walked out front again.   
  
"Wow," Abby exclaimed, looking at the basket. "Just how long are you going to keep me here?"  
  
Luka smiled and put the basket on the counter. "Anything else you need?"  
  
Abby shook her head, she didn't want to be a leech. But Luka grabbed a couple of magazines he thought she'd like and threw them in too. After paying for everything, he gave Abby a heavy bag and he carried the other. Once out, Abby looked both ways and turned to him, "Come on."  
  
She began to walk into the center, and Luka followed, "Where are we going?"  
  
"My room," Abby said and looked back at his knowing face. "Not like that, you idiot, just to leave these things inside."  
  
"Ah," Luka nodded. When the receptionist wasn't looking, Abby sneaked in, and he followed, feeling like he was doing something very wrong. There was no one inside, and Abby rushed through the hall as she came face to face with her door and opened it.   
  
"No locks?" Luka asked.  
  
"Hiding ourselves from the world is one step back from overcoming our addiction," Abby said.   
  
Luka followed her in, looking around the small room, which only had a bed and a dresser. "Kind of small, huh?"  
  
Abby threw her bag on the bed and put the bear against the pillow, "Yeah, um, first week we live alone, then we get a roommate, I'm still waiting to get transferred."  
  
Luka nodded. He so wanted to throw her on that bed and get her in trouble, but he tried to convince himself that there would be plenty of time for that when she got out. Plus, this wasn't a conjugal visit. He scratched the back of his head when he heard people singing again. He grabbed Abby's hand and walked her out, not trusting himself as far as he could see his own nose. "Singing again."  
  
"Lean on me," Abby said. "It's like an anthem."  
  
"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, feeling his stomach growl.   
  
Frankly, Abby was not hungry at all, but she didn't feel sick, so she just nodded along. She had no idea why this had gotten her so sick. The first time wasn't nearly as bad, and some of the people around here ate sometimes 6 times a day. Renee told her that it was psychological, but Abby didn't understand the psychology behind not being able to eat.   
  
The afternoon came quickly, too quickly, they thought. Soon everyone began to leave, and Luka's shift was scheduled to start in a couple of hours. His heart broke when he told Abby he had to leave and her face dropped. But she walked him out anyway, until a staff member stopped her.   
  
Luka turned around, and saw Abby biting her lip. "Please don't cry, ok?" he begged her and held her close. "Just two more weeks."  
  
"Um hm," Abby said, holding on to him tight, almost cutting his circulation. "Tell Carter that, um, I miss him, and that I hope his sponsor is treating him well," she chocked out.   
  
"I will," Luka said and tried to pull back but Abby wouldn't let him.  
  
"And tell Lydia and Haleh, and Chuny that, um, I miss them too much, and um..."  
  
"Ok, Abby, don't worry about that, ok?" Luka said and pulled back to grab both sides of her face. "Just think of you, and just try to get out of here as fast as you can."  
  
"Ok," she said and felt Luka's lips pressed against her own trembling ones.   
  
Luka took a step back and kissed both her hands, "Just two weeks."  
  
Abby nodded as he walked away, "I'll miss you."  
  
Luka smiled, "I'll miss you too," he said, walking backwards.  
  
Abby smiled as well, and wiped a tear. The sight of him leaving was too much to take, so she decided to walk back in, stealing a glance of him one more time, the only connection she had to the outside world disappearing.   
  
Luka blew her a kiss and walked towards his empty car, hearing people singing form inside the center, and him trying to swallow down his courage, the sound of a cheap and badly played guitar filling his ears.   
  
"Lean on me, when you're not strong, and I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on, for it won't be long 'til I'm gonna' need somebody to lean on."  
  
  
To be continued...  



	9. 24 Steps: Part 9

"24 Steps: Part 9" by Carolina  
  
  
The walls were literally stripping down. There were small pouches of water forming at the top and the bottom but Abby assumed they didn't coat the place because of the soothing smell paint produced. She wouldn't mind going on a paint trip at the moment.   
  
She walked into the room where her share group was reunited and they all went quiet as soon as she did so. Everyone's favorite chair, the one they all fought for everyday, was available just for her. She looked at them suspiciously and then sat down. "So what's this? Am I under some kind of intervention inside an intervention thing? Just like some sort of 20 question game or a last reunion before I get transferred to another group?" she said sarcastically, with a dry smile.   
  
"My vote goes for that last one," Eddie said callously.   
  
"Eddie," Beth scolded.  
  
"I *can* leave, if you'd like," Abby said to Beth.   
  
"Yeah, that seems to be your trademark," Ben said, getting a death stare from Abby.   
  
"Now everyone," Beth said and looked at Abby. "Abby, running away from your problems is not how we do things around here. If you want to scream at us, that's fine, we can take it, but another repetition of what happened Thursday night and you're out of here ."  
  
"I'm sorry," Abby muttered, playing with her nails.   
  
"Right," a woman two chairs away mumbled under her breath.   
  
"Excuse me?" Abby asked with a little attitude.   
  
"Am I the only one who thinks this whole 'I don't deserve anything, I'm sorry' droopy-faced shit is the reason why she keeps drinking?" the same woman said.   
  
"I don't *keep* drinking, ok? This is the first time I've slipped," Abby snapped, looking at Beth.   
  
"Don't tell me, Abby, tell Wanda," Beth said.   
  
Abby looked form Beth to the woman and then around the room, "You know what? Just forget about it, ok?"  
  
"There it is," Eddie said.   
  
Abby sat forward, "What is this? Let's fuck with Abby night? I don't see any of you doing Bible readings at church, tending to the leper, or saving the whales. You're all just as fucked up as I am, so can you all just do me a favor and kiss my ass?!"  
  
"See? Somehow that right there is pretentious, that sounds pretentious to me," Wanda said. "You're saying that it's not ok for us to point fingers at you but it's ok for you to walk out of here whenever you please."  
  
"Fuck you, Wanda," Abby muttered.   
  
"There it is again," Wanda preached.   
  
"Abby, let go and let God," Judy said sweetly.   
  
"And what? You're some fucking expert on this because you've done this program 5 times?" Abby ignored Judy and went straight for Wanda. "You know shit, ok? All you know is how to go home to your kids and promise them you'll never shoot again, only to break that promise and come right back in. You don't know what it's like growing up with a mother like you and a father who lived thousands of miles away. You don't know what it's like to find a fucking cockroach in your stale cereal at breakfast. You know shit about having to get on your bike at three in the morning when you're nine years old because they found your mom in her underwear at a liquor store, alright? You don't know what it's like being your kids, ok? So fuck her!" she yelled every single word, crying the last sentence. She suddenly felt her throat sore and curled in the chair, crying more openly.   
  
Wanda walked over, knelt in front of Abby and embraced her, letting her cry on her shoulder.  
  
"Ok, great, great. We found a root, that's progress. Good work. Thanks, Wanda," Beth said, applauding some of the words.   
  
Wanda stroked Abby's hair. "Shh, that's ok. I'll let that one about my kids pass, but never again."  
  
Abby, who was sobbing like there was no tomorrow, just held on tighter, smelling Wanda's shampoo and hearing some people applaud, some hands patting her back.   
  
-----------------  
  
Carter walked into the admit desk, where Dave sat in front of the computer, playing Frogger.   
  
"Dave, there's some people waiting in chairs," Carter complained.   
  
"That's why it's called the waiting area," Dave mumbled without taking his eyes off the screen. He saw that Carter went to the chart rack, so he stood all of a sudden to try and beat him to it. "Anything challenging in there?"  
  
Carter pretended to read a chart, "There's a 5 year old who can't spell Dog, sounds like a job for Dave Malucci," he said and gave Dave the chart.   
  
"Ha, ha," Dave said sarcastically and read the chart. "A sore foot, no thanks." He gave Carter the chart back and resumed his game on the computer.   
  
Carter was about to begin a game of hot potato with the chart, but then decided not to get down to Dave's level, so he walked to the chair area. "Georgia Water?" he read.  
  
"That's Waters," a young brunette stood in front of him with a crutch under each pit.   
  
"Oh," Carter said and extended his hand. "I'm Dr. Carter. Need any help with those?"  
  
"No, I'm ok," she said and began to follow him towards exam 2, staring at him rather intensely. "Have we met before? You look familiar."  
  
Carter, with his hand on his pocket, looked back at her, "No, I think I'd remember that." They walked into exam 2 and he turned on the light. "So, something wrong with your foot?" he asked.   
  
Georgia hopped up on the bed and put the crutches to her side. "I broke my foot 5 weeks ago, and my doctor thought it was time to remove the cast, that was yesterday morning."  
  
Carter sat in front of her and took her foot in his hands to take a closer look. "And did it feel tender?"  
  
"Not really," she said. "It wasn't until I walked on it for a couple of hours when it started hurting. When I woke up this morning it was swollen and now I can't even stand on it."  
  
Carter put her foot down gently and stood up. "Well, why don't you lay back and, um, we'll take an x-ray."  
  
"You think it's still broken?" she asked as she laid back.   
  
Carter wrinkled his forehead, staring at her Kermit the Frog t-shirt and black sweatpants, "It's probably just not healed all the way. He didn't take an x-ray yesterday?"  
  
Georgia smiled, "No. I guess that'll teach me to go to a doctor who has his office at a shopping mall, huh?" she joked.   
  
Carter chuckled, "You get what you pays for." He removed his gloves and opened the door. "I'll be right back, ok?" was the last thing he said before he saw her nod and walked off.   
  
------------------  
  
Abby sniffed and pinned her hands with her thighs, looking at the floor. "I don't drink because of my mother, or because of my childhood or my divorce. Um, I guess my first drink was when I was around 8 or something. My mom is bipolar, and, um, she actually didn't drink that much, I'm the only alcoholic in my family. But when she did drink, it was just, you know, she went all out." She cleared her throat, feeling her bloated eyes stinging. "Um, I used to wonder what it was like to pass out, you know? Just sort of, stop time for a couple of hours, or fast forward some of the worst parts. This one time I came back from school and Maggie was sleeping, and she had this bottle of Vodka next to her. I stared at her for the longest time, and I was starving, so I poked her, I turned on the television all the way up, I pulled and pushed her, but she was just out of it. So, I don't know why, I just took the bottle and, um, I just wanted to know what it tasted like. She used to say alcohol was the best thing created by men, that alcohol was a problem solver, and kids, when you have a few problems, a little hair of the dog that bit you solves everything!" she imitated Maggie.   
  
"Anyway, it burned my throat as soon as I swallowed it, and I didn't drink again until I was a teenager, it only became a problem when I was out of school." She let out a sigh, "I met my ex- husband some time later, and, um, he helped me sober up, but, um, at one point he got tired of me and my bad moods and depressions, so he just went out and found someone better. I didn't, I mean, it didn't hurt that much. I guess it hurts to know that you're not enough for your husband, but, um, I guess I could see that coming, so, when it came, we both knew what to do. I was sober, when we divorced, and, um, things were going great, just the usual milestones." She cleared her throat, "Truthfully, I really don't know why I started drinking again. I, I always solved my own problems, and I have had worse experiences, I don't know why I started drinking again," she said and looked up to see everyone's faces, all of the eyes in the room focused on her and her story.   
  
Beth took a deep breath and hunched forward, "Sometimes slips happen for no reason at all, or for the most insignificant things. You said that you always solved your own problems, but drinking is a temporary fix. When you wake up, the problems are still there."  
  
Ben raised his hand and sat forward on his chair, and looked around all the faces in the room. "Is it? I mean, um, it just seems that there's always an outside factor, which triggers that... need or desire to drink or use drugs. I mean, is it possible that people drink... just because? I mean, no genetics or no life changing experiences? Just... you know?" he stammered.   
  
"Absolutely," Beth said. "Some people drink because they like it, they like being drunk, because I guess, it's fun being high. We, rarely get any of those people. They have a problem, but they don't realize it." She turned to Abby, "Abby, we're not trying to attack you here, or fuck with you. We, want you to find the source of your problems, and as Judy said, let go and let God." She smiled, "Everyone has problems, bad problems, sometimes not so bad. I understand that your whole life you have taken care of yourself, so now, when you need help, you refuse it. That's ok, it's ok to be independent, but honey, sometimes we do need help. It's ok to take it. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, or belittle you, I just want you to realize that sometimes dealing with our own problems is not as effective as you might think it is. Some people grow up too fast, yes. And they know a lot about life, but every experience is new and different. I think we've all realized tonight, that you have too much baggage, honey. You need to get rid of it. Just, forgive and forget."  
  
Abby nodded, looking down and feeling like crying, but she didn't.   
  
"We made a lot of progress tonight. Your mother might not be the reason why you drink, but I think we all agree there's a lot of unresolved feelings there. I don't know if you noticed, but you were not screaming at Wanda earlier, you were screaming at your mother. I know it's hard, but you have to forgive her, accept that she is a big part of your problem, let it go and move on. And then after that, forgive your ex-husband, and keep going and going. Every time you remember something that once upset you, focus on it, find a target, and deal with it. Don't ignore your problems, don't put on a brave font and keep walking. Just deal with it. It is hard sometimes, but in the long run, it's worth it." She smiled, "We'll help you as much as we can. We all care about you here."  
  
Abby half smiled, "Thanks," she mumbled, still looking at her hands.  
  
"Ok," Beth smiled. "Why don't we call it a night with a prayer, this one for Abby."  
  
Abby held hands with the two people next to her, as everyone around the room did the same. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change... Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference," they all said in unison.   
  
"Great." Beth smiled, "We did this meeting earlier than usual today because it's phone night. So make your phone calls, it's still 6 o'clock, and go to bed. I'll see you all tomorrow night. Good work."  
  
Abby watched as everyone stood up, some patting her back as they walked away, and she smiled at them as they did so. She finally sat up, her legs weak from seating for so long, and her muscles tired of the eventful night. She approached Beth, who was getting her things together. "Beth, um, I'm really sorry I walked out like that, it's, it's just..." she let out a sigh.   
  
"I know, honey. I've been doing this for a while." She smiled, "We usually don't do these surprise interventions, but we all agreed it was necessary in your case."  
  
Abby chuckled weakly.   
  
"Go to bed. It'll be a hell of a ride from now on," Beth said.   
  
"Thank you," Abby smiled, and walked out, taking small steps.   
  
------------------  
  
Carter walked back into exam 2, where he found his patient making a bunny rabbit out of sticks and cotton balls. "I got your x-ray back," he said and put it against the board.  
  
"Is it broken?" Georgia asked once she put her art project away.  
  
"Nope, but it wasn't ready to come out of the cast yet."  
  
Georgia let out a sigh and leaned back. "I don't have to wear a cast again, do I?"  
  
Carter turned off the board and put the x-rays back on the envelope. "No, what I'm going to do is bandage it, and then put it on an ankle brace. You can use your crutches for around a week, and then if it stops hurting you can walk on it, but I'd recommend using the crutches for as long as you can," he said and sat in front of her again.   
  
"How long?" she asked, her light green eyes following his every move.   
  
"Oh, two weeks, maybe three," Carter said, taking out some bandages from the cabinets while seated on a stool.   
  
"Oh, great," Georgia said sarcastically.   
  
"Well, maybe you can get your money back for malpractice," Carter suggested.   
  
"I'm not too worried about that, it's the limping which cramps my style," Georgia quipped.   
  
Carter smiled, "How did you break it in the first place?" he asked as he began to bandage her foot carefully.   
  
"I, fell down while trying to take a picture. As it turns out, you shouldn't really climb a tree if you're a spaz."  
  
"You're a photographer?" Carter looked back at her.   
  
"Yeah, um, I work for the Chicago Tribune," Georgia said, watching him work.   
  
"Really?" Carter said, impressed. "Should I be worried about any exposes on health code violations?"  
  
"Ha, I'm off the clock right now," Georgia quipped. "Actually, we have more than enough stories on this hospital. To tell you the truth, I didn't want to come here. In this ER there's always some explosion, or a shooting, or a nuclear holocaust."  
  
Carter chuckled, "Yeah, we like keeping things interesting down here."  
  
Georgia snapped and clapped her hands together once. "That's where I've seen you before! A couple of years ago, there was some kind of chemical spill and you saved the day. I took your picture," she exclaimed.   
  
"That's right," Carter laughed as he nodded. "Yeah, there was a Benzene spill, that seemed like it was centuries ago." He smiled, remembering the memorable night.   
  
"Yeah, you were in every newspaper. I'm surprised they didn't give you the keys to the city," Georgia joked.   
  
"No, they did that later when I rescued a kitten from a burning house," he quipped back and covered her leg with the ankle brace.  
  
Georgia let out a chuckle and sat back on the bed, looking at her foot. "Is that all?"  
  
Carter took his gloves off, but remained seated. "Yup, just come back in a couple of weeks to have it removed, or go to another doctor, a good one."  
  
Georgia smiled and grabbed her crutches. "Well, thanks Dr. Carter. Stay away from the explosions, ok?"  
  
Carter smiled and saw her reach the door, and he shook his head, "Ms. Waters?"  
  
Georgia turned around and gave him a questioning look.   
  
"Actually, um," he stammered. "I was kinda wondering if, um, maybe you'd let me buy you a drink sometime?" he asked bashfully.   
  
Georgia smiled and looked down at her foot. "Well, I'm not sure my insurance covers that," she joked.   
  
"Well, I can call them," Carter quipped back.   
  
Georgia shook her head and gave him another smile, "My phone number is in the chart."  
  
"Ok," Carter said a little too quickly.  
  
"I'll see you later then," Georgia said and limped away.   
  
Carter saw her leave form his seat. "Bye," he said but only when she was already gone. He stood up, stretched his glove into the bin and walked out.   
  
"Hey!"  
  
He heard someone call out and turned around.   
  
Dave walked up to him, "Who was that?"  
  
Carter raised his eyebrows, "That, was the case you turned down," he rubbed it in.   
  
"The five year old dog speller?" Dave asked in ignorance.   
  
Carter shook his head as he walked towards the admit desk, "The sore leg, you idiot."  
  
"Huh," Dave said casually, "So, did she leave a phone number or something?"  
  
Carter smiled and held a small piece of paper up, "It so happens that she did. And it so happens that we are having drinks later," he said slyly.   
  
Dave dropped his mouth open, "You whore."  
  
Carter's grin became bigger, "There are no small cases, Dave." He grinned once more, enjoying the moment, and then walked into the lounge, and clapped his hands once, making Luka jump up from the couch. "Guess what I just did," he teased.   
  
Luka looked up, dusting his shirt off, "You just scared the shit out of me," he hissed.   
  
"Sorry about that," Carter smiled and walked over to pour himself a cup of coffee. "I just treated this incredibly beautiful and smart woman, I mean, apart from a broken leg, she is... perfect."  
  
Luka didn't even look up, but kept writing on his chart. "Did you ask her out?"  
  
"I asked her out!" Carter exclaimed.  
  
Luka looked up, smiled, and then looked down again. "Congratulations."  
  
"Thank you," Carter said and sat on a chair by the table. "Aren't you off?"  
  
"Yeah," Luka sighed, "After I finish this."  
  
Carter nodded, somehow feeling bad for the man, there never seemed to be any happiness in his life. "Did Abby say when she was getting out?"  
  
Luka looked up again, put the cap over the pen and put it in his pocket, leaning back on the couch. "No, um, maybe around two weeks."  
  
"Um," Carter nodded. "She doing ok?"  
  
Luka rubbed his eyes, letting out a yawn, "Uhh, I really don't know, Carter. She, looks terrible, so so skinny, and her eyes looked like they were about to explode."  
  
"That's... normal," Carter said.   
  
"It's scary," Luka added.   
  
Carter watched him for a while, "How are *you* doing?"  
  
Luka raised his eyebrows, thinking for a while, "Ok, I think. Just, tired."  
  
"You should take a couple of days off," Carter suggested.   
  
Luka shook his head, "I just can't get any sleep."  
  
"Want a prescription?" Carter asked.   
  
"No, no," Luka said.   
  
Carter stood up, "Look, I know how you feel, it's, I think it's worse being here because there's just no way to know what's going on, so your mind keeps wondering."  
  
Luka nodded, knowing exactly what Carter was talking about. What made this feeling worst was the great state of confusion he was in. Sometimes he felt like this was all too much too take. Mostly he was scared. Scared of Abby coming home.   
  
He knew she would be different, and maybe not in a good way, from his point. He kept wondering where they would stand, if Abby would still insist on breaking up, taking a break, or keep going. The problem was that all the three options were excruciatingly scary. He wanted to be with her. He really did think that they could work their differences and problems and maybe grow into something better together. How long would that take, though? People at the meetings keep saying that recovering alcoholics shouldn't date for a long time. But then it's ok when you are married, or seriously committed. Their problem was that they were none. He couldn't deny that he cared about her, a lot. And he missed her. God, he missed her. But, they weren't exactly set to be together forever. Sometimes you can look into the future and see yourself in a situation or with someone. Sometimes you see a stranger walking down the street and you can see yourself married and with children, and living together with this someone you don't even know. He couldn't do that. This wasn't one of those times. Right now, he couldn't see farther than two weeks. And it scared him. It made his head spin, and it made him lose sleep every night.   
  
"Here, I can finish that."  
  
He came back when Carter grabbed the chart from his hands, and Luka looked up and smiled, "Thanks." He watched Carter leave, and stood up to get his things from his locker. He was out of Tylenol, so he would have to stop somewhere on his way home to put an end to this relentless headache.   
  
--------------------  
  
Abby made sure everyone made their phone calls before her so she could cuddle on the chair next to the phones. She hesitated for a moment, ruling out phone numbers on her head. She finally just took a deep breath and pressed a few buttons, and waited.   
  
"Charles Wyczenski?"  
  
Abby paused for a moment, and then finally moved on her seat. "Dad?" she trembled out, her legs pressed against her chest.   
  
"Yes?" he asked and paused. "Abby?" he asked, not recognizing her voice.   
  
"Yeah," Abby smiled.   
  
"Honey? Is everything ok? Where are you?" he asked when he noticed her voice was craking a little.   
  
Abby played with the chord of the telephone and sniffed. "I'm, I'm at rehab, dad," she choked out, some tears falling down.   
  
There was an awkward pause on the line. "Oh, Abby," Charles said in disappointment. "What happened?"  
  
Abby curled the chord on her index finger, and let it go to do the same over and over again. "I don't know."  
  
Charles let out a sigh. "Are you in Chicago?"  
  
"Upstate," Abby said.   
  
"Honey, I could go see you, but this month, I'm really busy with work right now," he breathed with guilt.  
  
Abby bit her lip. "Dad," she didn't have anything to say but that. She wanted to see him, to curl up with him in a rocking chair as his arms engulfed her and he read her a story. A nice story. A story about a princess and a prince and a happy ending. And then she wanted him to tuck her in and kiss her forehead, and she wanted to be 5 again.   
  
"Abby?" Charles repeated.   
  
"Dad?" Abby asked. She sniffed, "How come we didn't get to be with you?"  
  
Charles let out another sigh to let her know that wasn't a topic he enjoyed talking about. "Honey, you know how hard I tried to get custody, but it wasn't as easy as it is today. I tried my best to at least keep you close, but you know how obsessed your mom was about going to Florida."  
  
"I just, I just wanted to be with you," Abby whimpered.   
  
"I know, honey, I wanted to have you here. You know it hurt me a lot when I had to see you leave. You and Eric are the two most important things in my life, ok? And even though I couldn't take care of you, I love you more than anything in this world," he cooed.   
  
Abby cleared her face and took a breath, "I love you too, daddy."  
  
"And, can you please promise me that you won't drink again? Abby, you are so beautiful, and so smart, and you have so much to give. You deserve better than this. Please promise me that you'll forget about your mom, and please try to be happy?" Charles asked. Him and Abby had had phone calls like this before, in which she called him completely destroyed and he had to glue her back together only to have her mother break her down again. Eric was stronger, but Abby always let everything get to her, too much. It always came when he wasn't able to do anything more than coo her a few words over the phone.  
  
"Um, hm," Abby nodded.  
  
"Abby, if I could turn back time and give you a happy childhood, I would. But honey, I can't," he added.   
  
"I know, dad," Abby cried.   
  
"Just, please be strong, for me?"  
  
Abby nodded, even though he couldn't see that.   
  
"And honey, I'll be down there as soon as I can, ok? I might have a couple of days off in a few weeks."  
  
"Ok," Abby said.   
  
"Ok," Charles repeated, a little more eased. "Can you give me a smile now?"  
  
Abby smiled, even though she didn't have to, but she had made him yet another promise.   
  
"Thank you. I have to go now, honey. Are you gonna be ok?" he asked.   
  
"Yeah," Abby said, wiping the last tear.   
  
"Do you need some money?"  
  
"No," Abby said.   
  
"Ok. I love you, baby."  
  
"I love you too, dad," Abby said and heard him breathe for a second before he hung up and the line went quiet. She sat there for a moment, looking straight forward and feeling the most tired she had ever felt in her entire life. She stood up and walked out, but then walked back in again and sat on the same chair, and picked up the same phone.  
  
"Marriott Hotel, can I help you?" a man answered politely.  
  
Abby blinked back to life. "Yeah, can I get, um, room 1214?"  
  
The receptionist scrambled through some papers for a second, and then the line went quiet as he transferred Abby to the room. She waited for a while, watching a clock in the wall, they would be asking her to leave soon.   
  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Kovac is not in his room at the moment, but he left a forwarding number," the same man said.   
  
Abby closed her eyes and locked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was about to tell him that is was ok, but before she could object, he gave her a number which made her frown in recognition.   
  
"Thanks," she mumbled and hung up. Another man walked into he room and smiled at Abby, and went straight to the other phone.   
  
She was tired, physically and emotionally. They had broken her down to pieces at the group session, her probably punishment for walking out on them the previous week, and they didn't even bother to put her back together again. Yet again, she had found another rock bottom, one which was deeper than the ones she had carved before. She felt a big void inside, like the ones you feel when there's a big battle coming ahead, one you know you will lose. Probably how Custard felt the whole time at the Alamo.   
  
Despite her emotional collapse, she wouldn't budge. Her hand reached tentatively for the phone again, and she dialed her own number. After a few rings, he answered.   
  
"Luka?" she asked as if she didn't know he was there in the first place.   
  
"Abby?" Luka replied.   
  
Abby smiled, "What are you doing in my apartment?"  
  
"Watering your plants," Luka said simply.   
  
"I don't have any plants," Abby frowned.  
  
"You will now," Luka said, thinking he was the worst liar ever. "How are you?"  
  
Abby let out a sigh and smiled, "Ok. What are you doing?" she asked.   
  
"Making some dinner," Luka said. "I bought you all new plates and silver wear. I hope you don't mind," he said, some of his words interrupted by small chuckles.   
  
Abby smiled, "You didn't have to do that."  
  
"Well, I made you break your other ones, so," Luka said a little bashfully. The sound of silver wear clicking together filled the background as Luka made his way from the kitchen to the living room, with a plate in one hand, a glass in the other and the phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder. Then the television. "Are you ok?" he asked, noticing her silence. "You are a little quiet."  
  
Abby smiled, "Yeah, long day," she sighed.   
  
"Why?" Luka asked and drank a little of his white wine.   
  
"They got all psychological on me tonight, you know, tough love. I yelled at my group and told them to kiss my ass," Abby said, a little ashamed but chuckling at her actions at the same time.   
  
Luka laughed, "Taking the Kerry Weaver approach to recovery, huh?"  
  
Abby chuckled, but she did little to smile, glancing at the man not far from her, who was blowing kisses and promising eternal love to some lucky lady on the other line, or lucky guy. She had been here all night, and every single phone call ended the same way, all but this one.   
  
A light came on and a woman walked in. "Phone time is over," she scolded and walked back out.   
  
Abby put her legs down and hunched forward. "Um, Luka, I have to go."  
  
"Oh, ok. Um, can you give me a call before I pick you up?" he asked.   
  
"I'll try," Abby nodded. "Um, I'll see you later, then."  
  
"I love you more..."   
  
Abby looked to the side, where the man cooed into the phone, still blowing kisses.   
  
"Ok. Please take care, Abby."  
  
Abby turned back to her phone call. "Yeah, ok. Um, bye." She hung up.   
  
"No, I love you more... well, I love you infinity plus one..."  
  
Abby shook her head and rolled her eyes as she walked out. The light to her new room was on, and as she walked in, and smiled to her new roommate.   
  
"Wow, how many phone calls did you make?" Marissa, a young woman much like Abby, said.   
  
Abby smiled, "Just two." She grabbed her towel and walked into the bathroom, and as she let the water run, she stared at herself in the mirror, the only mirror probably in the entire floor, one the staff had probably forgotten to get rid of. She was scared, because she could rarely recognize the person who was looking back at her. It was a new face, a pale one at that. Mostly just an insecure and vulnerable face, one Abby had never met before, had never seen or had never had to deal with for more than a couple of minutes. She couldn't wait to get rid of it, but at the same time felt that these two weeks would be somehow worse than the previous ones.   
  
She wanted to go home, and sleep on her own bed until the world ended. There are times when you feel like the world is at your feet, and no matter how many bad things come your way, you will welcome them with a smile and a fist, and move on. There are other times when that smile won't come out, and the fist is just a hand and five fingers. This was one of those times. Times when you feel like there's nothing waiting for you, that you are doing this merely because your heart is still beating, and your lungs are contracting.   
  
A happy place.  
  
She did that as a kid a lot. She used to imagine herself in Oz, walking down the yellow brick road while singing merrily as her mother screamed and threw plates against the walls of their small Florida house. Oz was her happy place back then, but now that she thought about it, all those characters, the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion, they were all strangers. They were just as lost as she was, and they did little to offer comfort.   
  
A happy place.   
  
Maybe Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Get lost in all that candy, and swim in a river of chocolate all day long. But those little people were scary as well.   
  
A happy place.   
  
Her grandmother's house, and how it always smelled of something old, very old. His grandfather's hands, and how they were so wrinkled, and little Abby would sit in his lap for hours, trying to push his green percolating veins down, and watching them resurface again against his skin as he slept. So big and strong, with blisters and scars, and yet familiar and safe.   
  
A happy place.   
  
Her apartment. Her lonely apartment and her comfortable bed. It had once been a scary place, and so very lonely. Happy times were when her bed was occupied with someone else next to her, watching him breathe as he slept, his stomach rising, his nostrils expanding. He looked so peaceful when he slept, his face so different than how it was during the day. Sometimes his hair would fall on his forehead, and she would remove it, and just watch him for hours, wondering if in a year, this man would still be sleeping in her bed, breathing quietly, and his hair falling on his forehead. There's nothing quite like the feeling of knowing there's someone next to you, that maybe he's lonely as well, and that maybe you are a source of comfort as he is to you.   
  
Happy places usually don't last very long. Dorothy came home, Willy Wonka's factory was shut down, her grandparents were dead, and an alarm clock would always wake her and Luka up. On moments like these, the best thing was to go to sleep, and pray to God that tomorrow the day would bring something better, something she could hold on to, a new happy place.   
  
--------------------  
  
Luka put his plate on the sink, and after washing it carefully, put it back on the cabinet with the other new plates. He turned off the lights of the kitchen, and then the television, but as he was about to go to bed, there was a loud knock at the door.   
  
He frowned.   
  
He could ignore it and go to bed, and pretend there was no one home who was interested in buying encyclopedias. But it was late, and once the knocking came again, he walked over and opened the door, his mouth a little open in surprise, and his eyebrows thicker than usual.   
  
"Maggie?"  
  
To be continued...  



	10. 24 Steps: Part 10

  
"24 Steps: Part 10" by Carolina  
  
  
Luka came back from Abby's kitchen with two cups on his hands, and   
put one on the table in front of Maggie, who was just looking around   
the place as if it was the first time she had been there. He was   
painfully aware that he was on his pajamas, but that didn't seem to   
be significant at the moment.   
  
"So, are you two living together now?" Maggie asked all of a sudden   
as she took the cup in her hands and sipped.   
  
Luka stared at the foot of the table for a while, trying to figure   
out how he would tell this woman where Abby was. 'Hey, remember that   
daughter you gave birth to 32 years ago? The one whose heart you've   
been breaking since she was a kid. Yeah, your last visit caused her   
to relapse, she's in rehab now. Would you like another cube of sugar   
on your tea?'  
  
He shook his head, and scratched the back of his neck. "No, I'm   
just staying here for a while," he said absentmindedly, feeling a big   
wall of tension between them, although Maggie certainly looked   
calmed.   
  
"I know I should have called before I came over, but I wanted to   
surprise her." Maggie bit her lip and paused for a while, and then   
continued with less enthusiasm. "Well, to tell you the truth I didn't   
call because I knew she wouldn't want me to come. But, it's different   
this time."  
  
Luka didn't move, just kept staring at her with a serious   
expression on his face, like a dog waiting for his pray to move so he   
can attack. "How is it different?" he asked, his lips barely moving.   
  
Maggie let out a sigh, and looked around the room as if she didn't   
want to or couldn't look into his eyes. "Dr. Kovac, I know that when   
I was here the last time, well, I know I caused a lot of problems,   
and I apologize for that, I really do," she said with her hand on her   
heart, and an expression of pain on her face. "I love Abby more than   
my own life, I don't do it on purpose."  
  
Luka nodded, knowing for the first time how Abby felt, well, a   
little about how Abby felt. He didn't want to say anything, all he   
wanted was for this woman to pick up her exaggeratedly huge flowered   
bag and get the hell out. He never did figure out the exact reason   
why Abby relapsed, but right now he was dumping all of that rage he   
had been trying to contain on Maggie.   
  
She suddenly smiled broadly and showed him the third finger on her   
left hand, "I'm getting married!" she chirped.  
  
Luka just raised his eyebrows.  
  
Maggie figured Luka wouldn't exactly be thrilled about that, so she   
just looked at her ring and began to play with it. "We met in New   
York, I was there for a while and he's a wonderful man." She looked   
up at Luka and slapped her hands, "I know this is probably a cliche,   
but he's bipolar too, and we're both taking our medication. I, broke   
the lease on the apartment Abby got me and we're going to live in   
Florida, close to Eric," she said happily.  
  
Luka half smiled, "Congratulations," he mumbled, still looking at   
her in the face. He knew that even though Maggie lived in Chicago for   
a while, her and Abby hadn't been talking. Heck, he was sure Maggie   
had left probably a week after Abby got her a place to live. But Abby   
never liked talking about her mother and he learned not to push. He   
wondered if Abby knew Maggie was seeing someone.   
  
He felt like he was divided in two; his brain telling him that this   
woman was sick and that she was right, the things she did were not   
her own fault. That he was a doctor and that he should understand her   
reasons, and somehow try to help. His heart was telling him that this   
woman had hurt someone he deeply cared about over and over, and that   
now she was probably here to do the same, and that he should prevent   
that at all costs, regardless of what Abby would do. He knew the last   
thing she needed right now was some crazy woman delaying her   
recovery.   
  
'Not crazy, Luka. She has a mood disorder,' he chastised himself   
inside, although outside he looked like a rock.   
  
Maggie's smile suddenly faded, and she picked up her bag. "Well, I   
guess she's working now, huh?" She stood up, "Can you tell her that I   
stopped by? I know it's late, but we're on our way to Florida, and I   
wanted to give her the news. I'll stop by..."  
  
"She's not working," Luka said as he stood up suddenly, but didn't   
walk her to the door, his hands on his hips.   
  
Maggie frowned, and lowered her bag to her knee level. "Well, where   
is she?" she asked in a tone of concern.   
  
Luka felt like punching a wall, and he toed the floor for a while.   
He gave bad news to people all day long; we did everything we could;   
his injuries were too severe; you have cervical cancer; we worked on   
her heart for 45 minutes... your daughter is in rehab. Somehow that   
one sounded worst than the other ones, maybe he was already used to   
the others.   
  
He wished she would get a clue and ask him straight ahead, so he   
could just nod his head, but she was quiet, for a change. "S-sh-she   
slipped," he mumbled.   
  
Maggie frowned, "She fell down?"  
  
Normally that would have been funny, but under the circumstances,   
it really wasn't. "No, um, she's in rehab," Luka said tentatively.   
  
Maggie gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand. She took a   
couple of steps forward, until she was face to face with Luka, with a   
couple of tears on her eyes. "Oh my God. Sh-she's drinking again?"  
  
Luka immediately turned to doctor mode, he figured that would help   
and make it seem like it was less personal. "No, she's not drinking.   
She, um, she relapsed, and she agreed to go to rehab for a month, and   
that's where she is right now," he said seriously.   
  
Maggie bit her lip for a long time, almost drawing blood out of it.   
It was a long silence, in which she knew she was torturing Luka, but   
her mind was running to all places, all roads taking her to the same   
question. "Why... did she?"  
  
A small sigh came out of Luka's system, soft but long. He scratched   
the back of his head, wanting to confirm her suspicions and tell her   
right out that it was her fault. It probably was anyway, along with   
other little things Luka was not sure about, maybe he was one in the   
list as well.   
  
He shifted on his feet, her eyes on him the whole time, burning   
holes into his pupils. After another sigh, he looked at her   
again, "I, there really is no way to tell. But she's ok now, she's   
recovering."   
  
"I wanna see her," Maggie said quickly.  
  
Luka's face changed into a frown, "I don't think that's a good   
idea," he said almost immediately.   
  
"I have to tell her I'm sorry," Maggie insisted, her voice raw with   
emotion, as if Abby was on her death bed and she was running out of   
time.  
  
Luka shook his head. He really should have let her think Abby had   
felt down and was taking physical therapy somewhere. His first mother   
in law was so sane, what happened? "She knows you're sorry, you told   
her a thousand times before you left, and you keep saying that," Luka   
said, this time a firmly and talking with his hands.   
  
"It's different this time," Maggie repeated and saw a mocking smile   
appear on Luka's face, and his head shaking. But she wouldn't let his   
opinions of her get in the way of how she should be a mother. "Where   
is she?"  
  
Luka closed his eyes and let out another sigh.   
  
"Where is she?!" Maggie asked again, standing on firm ground.   
  
He remained quiet for a moment, feeling tired and drained, and   
tasting his headache on his tongue. "Even if I told you, they won't   
let you in anyway," he said and saw as Maggie began to pace. Typical   
game, but he wouldn't budge.   
  
"I don't care," Maggie yelled at him.   
  
The pounding on his head became louder and even more painful. He   
was right, if she went up there, chances are they wouldn't let her   
in. But what if they did? He felt he should avoid that from happening   
no matter what. He had been taking care of Abby for a while now and   
he wasn't going to let this bad excuse of a mother come in and   
destroy everything he had built. Her eyes were filled with hate at   
that moment, her voice filled with venom.   
  
"I'll tell her to call you as soon as she comes back, " he said   
softly but firmly. He took a step back when Maggie jumped up towards   
him, but she just growled and a minute later, slammed the door as she   
stormed out.   
  
Aspirins. The stronger the better. If he could get his hands on   
some horse tranquilizer, he would have been out cold by now. All the   
lights went off and he rested his head on Abby's pillow, on the side   
she slept, smelling her perfume. For a moment, he thought of calling   
the rehab center in case Maggie found her way up there, but the only   
other person who knew where Abby was, was Carter; Luka trusted him   
enough not to tell Maggie. Carter knew as well the impact Maggie's   
visit could have on Abby.   
  
He looked at the telephone resting on the night stand next to him,   
but in the middle of debating on whether or not to call Carter, his   
eyes closed and his headache disappeared when he fell asleep.  
  
---------------------  
  
There was only one person in this hospital who was always glad to   
see her, and that was Randi. Whether it was because Maggie was the   
only one who understood and accepted Randi's sense of fashion, she   
didn't know. But there seemed to be a crazy connection between them.   
  
Randi saw her walk into the ER and a smile suddenly appeared on her   
face, "Maggie," she shrieked.   
  
"Hi, Randi," Maggie said with the same enthusiasm.   
  
"What are you doing here, we haven't seen you in a while," Randi   
said as she organized some charts.   
  
"I just thought I'd stop by," Maggie said and showed her the   
finger, "And to show you this."  
  
"Wow," Randi said. "You're getting married?"  
  
"I hope that's what this means," Maggie said. She became a little   
more serious, "Listen, Randi, do you think it might be possible for   
you to get me Dr. Carter's phone number? I need to speak to him."  
  
Randi eyed her for a moment, "Everything ok?"  
  
"Yeah, I, it's just a private thing," Maggie said, shaking her hand   
as if it was nothing important. "Doctor, patient," she added.   
  
Randi looked at her for a while longer and then just glanced at the   
computer, "Sure, ok." She popped up the personal information screen   
and looked up Carter's name. "Hmm, there's two numbers. I know he   
moved away recently."  
  
"Should I try both?" Maggie asked.   
  
Randi picked out a pen from a cup and wrote both numbers on a piece   
of paper, "I don't know which one's the one."  
  
Maggie took the paper and put it in her heart, "Thanks so much,   
Randi."  
  
"No problem," Randi said and went to the charts again. "Hey, how's   
Abby doing?"  
  
Maggie turned around and remained quiet for a moment. Everyone knew   
about Abby but her? That made her feel a void inside, and her smile   
faded, only to come back again. "Sh-she's fine, just can't wait for   
her to come back."  
  
"Tell her I said hi," Randi said.   
  
"Yeah," Maggie smiled, "I will."  
  
There was no one at the telephone booth and Maggie quickly locked   
herself in as she tried to remember Carter's address, but it was   
beginning to slip out of her mind. Her fiance was waiting outside in   
his car, and she quickly dialed the first number.  
  
"Carters Residence," a voice came on the line.   
  
"Yes, may I speak to Dr. Carter, please?" Maggie asked politely.   
  
"John Carter?" the maid asked.   
  
Maggie raised her eyebrows, trying to remember Carter's   
name. "Yeah, he's the doctor, right?"  
  
"I'm afraid Master John doesn't live here anymore," she said.  
  
"Oh," Maggie said. "Um, can I get his new number?" She listened as   
the woman gave her a number, the same one she had on the piece of   
paper. "Ok, thank you."  
  
She looked at the phone, visions of little Abby on her mind. She   
remembered Abby's ballet phase, in which the little girl would wear a   
tutu everywhere she went and she wouldn't take it off, not every for   
Maggie to wash. Then there was the time Abby learned how to swim, and   
she would eat, breathe and even sleep in her bathing suit. Then there   
was that song Abby was always singing, the one with the speckled   
frogs. She would walk around the house all day singing that song,   
until Maggie yelled at her to shut up. She noticed now that Abby   
usually sang it when Maggie stopped taking her medication. She could   
still hear her now, her voice so childlike and high pitched; a voice   
which only changed when Abby stopped singing that song and started   
smoking.   
  
She shook her head again, tears if rage filling her eyes. She had   
to make this right, she just had to. Her shaking fingers dialed the   
second number and she waited, and she waited some more, and the phone   
must have ranged a hundred times, but she still waited.   
  
----------------------  
  
"So how's your leg?" Carter asked hesitantly as he looked at   
Georgia, who was walking alongside him. It had been so long since he   
had a date, that he had forgotten all about dating etiquette. He   
wasn't even sure of what he was doing.   
  
"Not so bad," Georgia said as she looked around all the stores.   
  
"You should be using your crutches," Carter said, his hands on his   
pockets.   
  
"Yeah, well, when you called I wasn't expecting a walking date   
downtown," she joked.   
  
Carter's smile faded, "I'm sorry, we can go get the car if you'd   
like."  
  
Georgia chuckled, "No, I was just joking. It doesn't hurt anymore,   
really," she said.   
  
Carter smiled and nodded his head, thinking he was the biggest   
idiot that ever lived.   
  
"Besides, I missed walking," Georgia added when Carter didn't say   
anything.  
  
"Liar," Carter teased.   
  
Georgia shook her head and looked around again, "So, Dr. Carter, do   
you always make it a habit of asking your patient out on dates?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do," Carter said seriously. "After I drop   
you off I have a date with Ernie, the 300 pound hypochondriac Star   
Wars fan."  
  
"Ha ha," Georgia said sarcastically.   
  
Carter laughed at his own joked and finally opened the door of a   
small restaurant for her. It was a little crowded inside, but he   
walked right up to the host. "I have a reservation for John Carter,"   
he said.   
  
"Ah yes, Dr. Carter," the host said, smiling lightly. "This way."  
  
Carter let Georgia walk ahead and pulled out a chair for her,   
remembering all those gentlemanly gestures. The waiter left them the   
menus, one Carter began to look at.   
  
Georgia looked around the restaurant before resting her eyes on   
Carter, "Dr. Carter, huh? How often do you come here?" she asked.   
  
"Not very often," Carter said as he put the menu down. "And if I   
do, I usually sit by the bar."  
  
"That lonely, huh?" Georgia said.   
  
Carter nodded, feeling a bit of a loser as he admitted that. He   
looked up at her, though, and those green eyes were somehow of a   
comfort. Well, her presence was a comfort. He had been craving   
something like this for years, just a date, a good date. There was   
always something inside of him which allowed him to quickly build a   
life with any woman who found him interesting. That was probably the   
reason why his heart was broken so often. He remembered when he was a   
child, and his parents were rarely there. His sister would make him   
play dolls with her, and Carter would walk into her room with one of   
his G.I. Joes for her Barbies and they would play for hours. He was   
always the dad, the husband, the working man. His Joe would come home   
to his Barbie and the baby. He would pick the baby up and rock it to   
sleep, and then, as the babysitter Skipper took care of the baby, he   
would take his Barbie out for a date.   
  
His brother hated it. He would make fun of John until tears   
streamed down his face. 'Playing house is for sissies! John plays   
with dolls! Neener neener neener'. He could still hear it on his   
head. But he preferred the company of his sister over any of his   
friends. And now that he had grown into that G.I. Joe, he just   
couldn't wait to find a Barbie and move to a dream house.   
  
This time, though, he tried to keep his hopes down. He found that   
it was easier to steer clear of compromising thoughts, they were just   
a way of reminding his heart of what it couldn't have.   
  
Admitting that he was lonely was almost as hard as admitting he had   
a drug problem, if not more. But he tried to change the subject, put   
her in the spotlight because he knew that when the time came to talk   
about him, it would be the longest one man show in recorded   
history. "Hey, would you like some wine?" he asked and snapped his   
fingers at the waiter.   
  
"John!" Georgia laughed and waited for Carter to leave before she   
leaned forward, "You don't snap fingers at the servers, unless you   
grew up in 1938," she chuckled.   
  
"Oh, they like it," Carter said.   
  
"Yeah, my dog likes it too," Georgia said as she eyed her menu.  
  
"You have a dog?" Carter asked, a little intrigued.   
  
"Yeah, a small Beagle," Georgia smiled.  
  
"Like Snoopy?" Carter asked.   
  
"Yeah, that's his name."  
  
Carter laughed, "You named your dog Snoopy? That's too predicable."  
  
"Look who's talking... John," Georgia said.   
  
"Yeah, well, when you reach the third kid you just don't think the   
naming process is as exciting as it used to be," Carter said, taking   
a sip of his wine.   
  
"Are you the baby of the house?" she asked.   
  
Carter shook his head, "The youngest. How about you?"  
  
"Only child," Georgia said. "Big imagination."  
  
"I bet," Carter said. He eyed his glass of wine and raised it in   
the air, "To bad doctors."  
  
Georgia smiled, "To bad doctors."  
  
------------------  
  
Maggie finally just slammed the phone over and over on its stand.   
She rested her head on it for a while, damning the day Abby started   
drinking. A knock on the door of the booth made her jump up. "Dr.   
Weaver," she said as she walked out with a fake but very believable   
smile on her face, gathering her things hurriedly.   
  
"Maggie, is everything ok?" Kerry kind of exclaimed, thinking   
Maggie was out of her medication again.   
  
"Yeah, everything's great," Maggie said.  
  
"Good," Kerry said and began to walk to the lounge, followed by   
Maggie. "Are you here to see a doctor?"  
  
Maggie put her bag down as Kerry poured herself a cup of coffee, "I   
was hoping I could talk to Dr. Carter."  
  
"Is there something wrong?" Kerry asked.   
  
Maggie bit her lip, thinking maybe there was a little light at the   
end of the tunnel after all. "Actually, there is. There's been a bit   
of a family emergency, and I really have to tell Abby, but I lost the   
address of the center she's at. I, forgot the name," she lied, trying   
to sell it to Kerry.   
  
Kerry looked up for a moment, and then down at her coffee. "Can't   
you call her?"  
  
Maggie shook her head quickly, "I wanted to talk to Dr. Kovac, but   
he's not home."  
  
"Oh. That's weird, he's not working tonight," Kerry said   
casually. "Well, I'm pretty sure the address is on the yellow pages.   
Rosecrane is a popular rehab center."  
  
"Rosecrane," Maggie repeated, as if it was something heavenly and   
hopeful.   
  
Kerry suddenly looked at Maggie, wondering what the woman was up   
to, "It's quite a drive, do you have a car?"  
  
"Yeah, I do." Maggie looked around for the yellow pages, but didn't   
find them, so she picked up her bag and smiled at Kerry, "Thank you   
so much, Dr. Weaver."  
  
Randi was on the phone, so Maggie walked into the admit area and   
looked under the desks and all spaces, most of which were filled with   
bags and personal things. She finally found the yellow pages, and her   
shaking fingers browsed through all the categories it could be under.   
She finally found it, and ripped the page off to put it in her   
pocket. "I'll see you later, Randi," she said as she ran out of the   
hospital, getting a strange glance from the young desk clerk.   
  
------------------  
  
She always wondered how lakes got their water. She always assumed   
it was because of the rain, but it wasn't until school and a lot of   
reading that she found out there were actually underground water   
fountains which supplied lakes with water. She remembered once seeing   
a show on the Discovery channel where this two guys, two scientists,   
decided to dive down in a lake in France to find that passage. Once   
they did, they decided to go into it, but one of the men panicked and   
they had to go back up, and they never did find out how long the   
passage was, but it's supposed to be the longest in the world.   
  
She wondered if there was a passage down this lake. She wondered if   
she could find it, and she wondered in which country she would emerge   
if she went into it and made it to the other side. She'd probably   
drown. So it was comforting enough to lie down on the small bench as   
she watched the still lake. There were bugs and small flies flying   
over it, and every once in a while one would touch the water and form   
a small ripple, a miniature one. What were those bugs called? The   
ones that looked like flying sea horses? Her grandma used to say that   
they were bad luck; bad things would happen when you saw one. God,   
what were they called?  
  
There was a croak and saw moved her eyes slightly to see a frog   
jump into the water. She hated frogs, always had. They were slimy and   
ugly, and disgusting. Her brother used to catch them and then torture   
her by walking into her room and putting them in her bed. She'd   
scream and scream for her mother as Eric laughed from his room and   
the frog walked and jumped all over her bed. Finally, Maggie would   
rush in with a broom and scare the frog away, and Abby would take   
those sheets and throw them into the washing machine, and pour   
detergent until the box was empty. She still hated frogs. They gave   
her nightmares. Unless they were sitting in a log.   
  
"Five little speckled frogs," she began to sing softly, "Sitting on   
a speckled log. Eating the most delicious bugs. One jumped into the   
pool, where it was nice and cool. Then there were four speckled   
frogs."  
  
Ben peeked his head from behind a tree, and watched Abby and her   
limp body lying on a bench, her feet dangling from the edge, her   
hands resting on her stomach. She was staring deeply into the water,   
hypnotized, but she was singing. He walked her way slowly, until he   
was too close. "Then there were two speckled frogs," he joined her   
singing.   
  
Abby looked at him and smiled, and then looked back into the water   
and felt as Ben walked over and sat on the ground, his back leaning   
against her bench.   
  
He looked at the water too, and there was a long silence, until he   
said something. "You know they were about to close this lake down?"   
  
"What?" Abby said for a moment. "Why?"  
  
"There was this crack patient. She was young, her parents locked   
her in. One day she went crazy and she came down here. She wrapped   
something heavy around her and jumped into the water, killed   
herself," Ben said calmly.   
  
Abby thought for a moment, his story scaring her a little, "Did   
they find her?" she asked slowly.   
  
Ben shook his head, "No. They say that sometimes you can hear a   
person sniffing up in the middle of the night, and steps rushing   
through the halls of the center."  
  
Abby smiled, "Liar."  
  
Ben chuckled, "It would be a cool story, though." He thought for a   
while, both of them looking at the water, the silence very   
comfortable for a quiet morning. He didn't move, "So what are you   
doing down here?"  
  
"Just thinking," Abby sighed, and felt him nod, his head near her   
stomach. She tried to say something, but her vocal chords were lazy   
and her eyes closing. Finally, she moistened her lips with her tongue   
and her eyes looked down at him, "So what's your reason?" she asked.   
  
Ben snapped back and looked at her, "What?"  
  
"Last night, you asked if it was possible to drink just because. Do   
you drink just because?" Abby asked, slowly but confidently.  
  
Ben looked at the water again, and remained quiet for a while,   
debating in his head. He cleared her throat and threw a pebble into   
the water. "Couple years ago, my wife and I started having problems.   
Not serious problems, just stupid fights. I thought everything was   
ok, actually. I have two kids, a boy and a girl, 6 and 4." He took a   
deep breath, "Well, what can I say? Oldest story in the world, I   
found out she was cheating on me, and, um, I tried to work things out   
with her. I was willing to forgive her because of the kids, but she   
said she was in love with this other guy. So one night she just took   
the kids and left," he said, trying to sound casual.   
  
"Do you still see them?" Abby asked curiously.   
  
Ben curled his mouth, looking at the water, "I, I had them on   
weekends, but, um, I started drinking after the divorce, it was just   
too unbearable, to be so lonely. She, um, went to court and I lost   
visitation rights because of my alcoholism. They moved away a couple   
of days later, to Arizona." He took a breath, "You know, you can get   
over losing a spouse, but losing your kids... I miss them so much   
sometimes I can't even breathe."  
  
Abby's eyes glanced down at him, and she brought her hand up to   
stroke his messy hair. "Hard to believe you were married and have two   
kids."  
  
Ben smiled, "A lot of people around here pretend to be something   
they're not." He looked back at her, "Do you have kids?"  
  
"No," Abby said with a smile. "Never got to it, which is good, in a   
way. My husband wanted to finish med school first, and then his   
residency, and then he just didn't want to," she added.  
  
"Why not? He seems like a nice guy," Ben said, looking at her for a   
moment.   
  
Abby smiled, "That's not my husband. I got divorced last year."  
  
"Ah," Ben nodded. "We don't get many boyfriends or girlfriends   
around here. Most of them get dumped after recovery."  
  
Abby nodded, looking at the water and thinking, "Yeah."   
  
----------------------  
  
Luka yawned as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He came in   
looking for Carter, wondering if Maggie had made her way to the   
doctor's apartment, but Carter wasn't here yet. He hadn't heard   
anyone talking about Maggie, but then again, most of the people who   
were on last night had gone home already.   
  
He was about to walk out the door when it came open, and Carter   
rushed inside.   
  
He looked back at Luka for a moment, and then went to open his   
locker, "Weaver is going to decapitate me."  
  
"I am the attending today," Luka said.   
  
"Oh," Carter mumbled, "Um, my alarm didn't go off?" he tried to   
lie.   
  
Luka chuckled, "Nice try." He walked over and leaned against the   
locker next to Carter's. "I actually wanted to talk to you about   
something."  
  
Carter took his jacket off and hung it on the railing inside the   
locker, "Everything ok?"  
  
"No," Luka said. "Maggie is back."  
  
Carter wrinkled his forehead and looked at Luka, "Maggie as in   
Abby's mother?"  
  
Luka nodded, "I take it you didn't talk to her then?"  
  
"No, I thought she and Abby weren't talking," Carter said.   
  
"They're not," Luka said. "She was in New York, and she didn't know   
Abby had relapsed. She stopped by Abby's apartment last night and I   
told her. She wanted to go up there and visit Abby."  
  
Carter raised his eyebrows, "Was she upset?"  
  
Luka let out a sigh, "She says she's taking her medication now, but   
she was upset because I didn't tell her where Abby was. I thought   
maybe she'd try to find you."  
  
"No, no, I had a date last night," Carter said. "Do you think   
she'll find Abby?"  
  
Luka shrugged his shoulders, "Who else would be able to tell her?"  
  
Carter closed his locker, "Let's cross our fingers." He looked up   
at Luka, who looked like he had just been thrown out of a running   
car. "Are you ok?" he asked straight out.   
  
Luka ran his hands through his hair, "Yeah, just tired."  
  
Carter nodded, "You know, that's really nice, all you've done for   
Abby. You've surprised a lot of us."  
  
Luka raised his eyebrows. "Being alone for so long, it really gives   
you a lot to think about. I keep thinking the same thing over and   
over."  
  
"What's that?" Carter asked curiously.   
  
Luka looked at Carter, "I miss her," he admitted.  
  
Carter half smiled, and patted Luka's arm, "She'll be ok." He hung   
the stethoscope around his neck, "I better go out there before you   
fire me."  
  
"Yeah," Luka said and saw him leave.  
  
Carter walked out, and over to read some things on the board while   
the Croatian doctor made his way out to exam 2.  
  
"So, first date, did you get some action?" Dave said as he   
approached Carter.   
  
Carter didn't even look at him, but shook his head, "Dave, if I   
wanted to make you an essential part of my date life, I would have   
asked you to come with us last night."  
  
"Come on, Carter. I just want to know how desperate this girl is   
that she chose you over me," Dave said. "I mean, have you checked me   
out?"  
  
"I've checked you out," Randi said as she walked by.  
  
Dave looked at her behind for a moment with a smile and then turned   
to Carter, but the young resident was already gone. Dave looked   
around and spotted him walking down the hall, so he followed, "So did   
you kiss her?"  
  
Carter examined a chart and shook his head, "Don't you have any   
work to do, Dave?"  
  
"This is my work," Dave quipped.   
  
"That's right, I forgot about you merging with the nurses to   
benefit from primary care and elite gossiping," Carter said.   
  
"It's just symbiosis, really. Like those fish that suck on sharks,"   
Dave said matter of factly.   
  
Carter shook his head, "You're just lonely Dave. Here, lady with a   
broken foot, sometimes lightning strikes twice in the same spot."  
  
Dave grinned and grabbed the chart only to find an obese old lady   
in a bed. He frowned and motioned the lady to wait. Luka didn't mind   
taking the rejects.   
  
--------------------  
  
"I hope we didn't miss breakfast," Ben said as him and Abby walked   
up to the center.   
  
Abby crumbled some leaves in her hands and threw them away, "I   
don't even think people are up yet."  
  
"I haven't hit on you in a while, Abby. Fancy a quick one down by   
the lake?" Ben asked sneakily.   
  
Abby took a deep breath, "You try too hard, Ben."  
  
"Do I get extra credit for that?" he joked.   
  
"Hardly," Abby said. They walked into the center, and the smell of   
food immediately made its way out. Eggs, pancakes, toast, bacon...   
Ben was right, the food wasn't that bad around here, if she didn't   
puke half of what she ate. She doubted people were up yet, but as   
they neared one of the halls, she heard people arguing. Ben kept   
walking, but she stopped.   
  
He looked back at her for a moment, "Are you ok."  
  
Abby remained quiet for a while, listening to the voices. She   
closed her eyes and lowered her head, "This is unbelievable."  
  
Ben wrinkled his forehead, "What is?"  
  
Abby leaned against the wall and made her way down to the floor;   
Ben sat next to her. Yeah, that was her voice, there was no mistaking   
it.   
  
Ben began to get scared, "Do you want me to get Renee? A nurse? Are   
you sick?"  
  
Abby could only shook her head, and looked at Ben. They looked in   
the eyes for a while, Ben's asking questions and Abby's barely giving   
answers. She looked away, still hearing Maggie's demands, that she   
wanted, needed, to see her daughter and that no one was going to stop   
her. "My mother's here," she finally muttered, her voice hoarse.   
  
Ben peeked her head out of the hall to see a brunette in front of   
the main desk, pleading with Marci, and then looked back at   
Abby. "The one that's Bipolar?" he asked.   
  
"You can't have two different people give birth to you, Ben," Abby   
said callously.   
  
Ben shook his head, "They can't let her in, can they?"  
  
Abby just remained quiet for a moment, her mother's voice becoming   
unbearable. She didn't know if Maggie was still taking her   
medication, she probably wasn't. This time, though, she wasn't making   
a scene, she wasn't screaming or crying... but that voice always made   
Abby want to run away. She had gotten Maggie an apartment near   
Chicago and a job, and a couple of days after that, Maggie stopped   
calling. She wasn't surprised, not at all. She always had foolish   
expectations of her mother getting her act together, but when the   
time came around for Abby to know she wasn't, well, it hurt less and   
less every time she did.   
  
She didn't want to deal with that now. She didn't want to hear   
about how Maggie is sorry for being such a bad mother and she didn't   
want to keep bringing up examples of how she was. She didn't want to   
talk about her father, or Eric, or her childhood.   
  
The smell of eggs and toast made her nauseous, and she looked at   
Ben as she got up on her feet, "I'm going to my room."  
  
"Abby, you should talk to her," Ben insisted, following her to one   
of the wings, but Abby just ignored him. "You know this is your root,   
and this is your opportunity to deal with it, don't just walk away."  
  
Abby shook her head, "I can't do this today, I can barely make it   
to bed every night, I just don't have the energy."  
  
"No one does, Abby. But you walk away from this and you'll be just   
as guilty as she is. If she's here to say she's sorry, then talk to   
her," Ben said, following her down the hall of the wing where Abby   
slept.  
  
Again, Abby remained quiet.  
  
"I'm calling Renee," Ben said, face to face with Abby's door.   
  
"Mind your own business, Ben," Abby hissed and threw the door on   
his face.   
  
To be continued...  



	11. 24 Steps: Part 11

  
Disclaimer: All I need is one Luka, but I don't own him, so I have to settle for the inflatable doll.   
  
Author's notes: The usual apologetic notes apply. Well, after I had everything written, my computer went bonkers and I lost everything, so I had to write the entire fic from the start. Imagine my anger. Well, it's not as good as the original, but I hope you like it all the same. Serves me right for writing so much in one chapter.  
  
  
"24 Steps: Part 11" by Carolina  
  
  
Five little speckled frogs sat on a little speckled log, eating delicious bugs. Then the speckled mother frog jumped on the log suddenly, causing the log to tip over and making all the speckled frogs fall off.   
  
Abby closed the door behind her and leaned into it for a while, trying to prevent all those thoughts with torches and pitchforks from invading the room. Marissa was still sleeping soundly on her bed, and Abby approached hers slowly, sitting down and feeling the coldness of her sheets penetrate the fabric of her jeans. She used her hand to remove some hair from her face, but there was no hair there, so she just rested her hand on her forehead.   
  
She could still hear Maggie. Even thought everything was quiet, she could still hear her in her head. "I need to see Abby, please. I need to see her." Somehow it never was, "I want to see Abby," or, "I came to see Abby." "I need to see Abby." I need. It was always a need, as if Abby was a drug Maggie needed to get a temporary fix of. Once she did, she disappeared until withdrawals came back. It was a need to seek Abby out and make her life miserable. It suddenly occurred to her that she came from a family of addicts. Abby was addicted to alcohol. Eric was addicted to airplanes. Maggie was addicted to misery.   
  
Abby was misery.  
  
The most surprising feeling was always the same. And it wasn't the feeling, but the fact that it still kept coming back. How long does it take to get used to having a Bipolar mother? But this was it. This was it. This was the same old speech she told herself. "This is it," said 18 year old Abby when her mother made a scene at her prom. "This is the last time," said 22 year old Abby when her mother got drunk on her graduation. "This has got to stop," said 27 year old Abby on her wedding day, when Maggie insulted her in laws. "I can't do this again," said 31 year old Abby when her mother showed up at the hospital.   
  
This was always it, wasn't it. Was this it, Abby?  
  
She let out a quiet sigh, and stood up from her bed. You know that feeling at the bottom of the stomach when something overwhelming is going to happen? Like when the roller coaster is going up, and up, and up, and suddenly there's nothing except that feeling that you are falling and nothing can save you? She opened the door to her room and walked out, not feeling sad, or weak, or even vulnerable. She was strong, strong with anger.   
  
Somehow the stairs were steeper now, or maybe it was the fact that the roller coaster was going down.   
  
Her legs trembled. "Stop it," she scolded herself, punching her thigh as she walked along.   
  
Maggie was wearing one of those dresses she made for herself the last time she was in Chicago, with a fabric Abby was beginning to think she had stolen, wouldn't be the first time. This time, though, she had the decency of wearing a jacket over her shoulders, and the shoes were actually of normal height. She was carrying that big bag, though, probably to gather every piece of junk she could find because, "It could be useful someday."  
  
She wasn't screaming, or crying, or even shaking, but merely leaning against the desk and having meaningless conversation with Marci, most likely to persuade the old receptionist to let her in, like the time her and Eric were little and Maggie told the school secretary Abby's father had died, only to be allowed into the school and make a scene in front of everyone because Abby left home without washing the dishes.   
  
Abby stared at her for a while, with a blank expression on her face and her arms crossed in front of her. Sometimes when she was little she went to bed wishing Maggie would mistake a green light for a red and be hit by a car. Sometimes she hoped the cops would barge into the house and arrest Maggie, give her a life sentence for being sick. Sometimes she wished Maggie was being serious when she threatened to kill herself, so her and Eric could go back to Minnesota and live with her dad and they would never talk about Maggie again, one big happy family.   
  
She was wishing that again. It was the only way this would stop.   
  
Maggie suddenly laughed out loud, throwing her head back and glancing Abby's way for a moment. She turned serious, and dropped her bag on the floor, putting her hand to her mouth as if she had just seen the angel of death. "Abby," she whispered, but Abby didn't move.   
  
Maggie ran over, and with shaking fingers ran her hands through Abby's face, and rested them on her daughter's shoulders. She forced her into an embrace, one Abby pulled back from immediately, the smell of Chloe perfume burning her nostrils.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Abby asked nonchalantly.   
  
"Oh, look at you, honey, you're all skin and bones," Maggie said with a smile, her voice trembling.   
  
"Who told you I was here?" Abby repeated in the same tone.   
  
Maggie wiped a tear off her eye, always the thespian. "Honey, I was worried about you, and I needed to see you, Abby."  
  
"You can't be here," Abby said firmly.  
  
Maggie grabbed Abby's arms again, "I'm your mother, Abby, I have a right to know."  
  
"Know what?!" Abby snapped. "That your daughter's an alcoholic? That she was sober for five years and now has to spend a month in rehab?" she asked, not expecting an answer, not even wanting one. "Thanks for the visit." She turned around and walked off.   
  
Maggie didn't move, didn't cry, didn't call out. She just looked at Abby as she walked away.   
  
Abby stopped.   
  
Maggie took that cue to walk closer, almost but not touching her daughter. "Do you want me to make a scene, Abby? Because I won't."  
  
Abby just stood there, with her arms crossed and her head dropped. She was looking at an ant as it made its way from one side of the room to the other, carrying something white over its head, probably a piece of bread.   
  
The big wooden door suddenly opened, and the quietness of the room was disturbed. "Maggie? Are you ok?"  
  
Abby turned around, to see an average man of average height and average looks looking their way.   
  
Maggie turned as well, "Yeah, I'll be right there, honey," she said sweetly.   
  
The man closed the door and walked out. Abby laughed sarcastically, and shook her head in disbelief. "How many does that make, Maggie?"  
  
Maggie turned serious, concern gone from her face. "I'm not going to let you do this to me, Abby. I have been working hard these past few months to better myself and I won't let you drag me down."  
  
"Better yourself," Abby smiled mirthlessly and sarcastically. Flashes of all the men Maggie had dated came to her mind, it was a long flash. After her father left, Maggie made it her mission to find her kids a new dad. New was definitely a criteria, and the only one. Tall men, small men, white men, black men, men who had been in prison, men who were devoted to the Bible. They never seemed to be on the house for long, though. School was like a Motel 6 for Abby, because she spent most of her time sleeping on her desk. Poor little Abby can't tell her teachers that she got little sleep because Maggie's moans kept her up all night. Because her mother was having sex with a man who never seemed to be there in the morning.   
  
She was sure the trend continued, only the good thing was that she couldn't hear it anymore. Still, God bless the soul of that poor man.   
  
She looked down again, feeling the conversation was over, or rather the chapter was closed. Maggie had other plans.   
  
"Abby listen to me. You want to blame me for everything that has gone wrong in your life? Go ahead. You want me to be the reason why your marriage failed and why you drink. Fine. But that doesn't give you the right to judge me and whatever I do with my life," Maggie said very firmly.   
  
Abby smiled again, "I don't care about your life, Maggie." She turned around with a defying look, "Just keep it away from mine." She heard Maggie release a sigh, and heard something else.   
  
"Abby? Is everything ok?" Renee asked as she joined the picture.   
  
Abby turned around, giving Renee a fake smile, "Yeah, everything's great."  
  
Maggie looked at Abby intensely, and then turned to Renee with a broad smile. "Hi, I'm Maggie, Abby's mother," she extended her hand.   
  
"Oh," Renee said in an exclaim, looking at Abby, who had her head down. She then shook Maggie's hand a little hesitantly, "I, I'm Renee, Abby's sponsor," she said, not wanting just how much information Abby wanted her to divulge.   
  
Abby finally looked up, "Maggie was just leaving." She looked at Renee and then gave Maggie a serious look, "Right?"  
  
Renee looked at Maggie, who was about to protest, and then at Abby. "Actually," she said, interrupting Maggie. "Abby, can I talk to you for a second?" she motioned her to step to the side.   
  
Abby looked at Maggie, who had a pained expression on her face, and then at Renee, who gave her an encouraging look. She let out a sigh and shook her head, and Renee immediately guided her away. "I didn't ask her to come, she just showed up. She always does that, I don't even..."  
  
"Shh, calm down, Abby. It's ok," Renee cooed when Abby crumbled once they were out of sight.  
  
"She always does that," Abby repeated, pacing around and taking long breaths.   
  
"I know," Renee said, rubbing Abby's arm. "Listen, Abby, I know this is hard, but I really think it's time for you to deal with her."  
  
"I have," Abby said exasperatedly.   
  
"No, you haven't. You have to come to terms with this," Renee explained.   
  
Abby stopped pacing, and looked at her sponsor with a serious look on her face. "That's never gonna happen."  
  
"I know you think that, but you have to let her know how you feel," Renee said.   
  
Abby shook her head, "She knows how I feel."  
  
"No, she knows you hate her. That might be true, although I don't think it is." She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts, "Abby, do you know why she keeps coming back?"  
  
Because she likes making my life miserable? Because she's insane? Because she likes the attention? Because she can't see other people being happy? Because she God decided to create a little creature called Abby Lockhart so he could test all the pain of the world on her? All of these reasons were thought, none were spoken.   
  
Renee didn't wait for an answer. "Because of that. Because she thinks you hate her." She looked at her friend for a moment. "Abby, the other day my little girl came home, and when I tried to help her with her homework she told me that she could do it herself, because from now on she has decided she doesn't need me to tell her what to do. I couldn't sleep that night. You have no idea how much that hurts a mother. Imagine how much more it would destroy you to know your kids hate you. A mother can't die knowing that somewhere there's a daughter who hates her guts. She's here because she wants to change that. There's only one person making that impossible," she said.   
  
Abby looked at Renee, and then towards the main desk, where Marci was peeking her head out of the desk area, trying to catch up on the gossip. "Did you see him?" Abby asked absentmindedly. "He has no idea what's waiting for him. First comes love, then comes marriage, then Maggie changes her mind and breaks his heart."  
  
Renee looked at what Abby was looking at, "Don't change the subject. Forget about him, men are resilient. This is about you. What are you gonna do for you, Abby?"  
  
---------------------  
  
Luka didn't even wait until his patient was out the door before he threw the chart on the desk and rubbed his temples gently. Kerry went home early, which meant that it was his turn to deal with all the crazy admissions, and all the crazy staff members. Luckily, everyone was behaving today, yet he was exhausted.   
  
"Dr. Kovac?"  
  
Randi's voice brought him out of his reverie, and he looked at her with a question in his eyes, his left hand resting on the keyboard of the computer.   
  
Randi sat on her chair, her eyes engrossed in the latest issue of Vogue. She took her time while she made a bubble with her gum. "Some guy called for you."  
  
Luka stared at her, waiting from more, but apparently Randi wasn't in a talkative mood, for once. "Some guy?" he finally asked.   
  
"Mario or something," Randi said, still browsing through the magazine.   
  
Luka was beginning to get a little exasperated. "I don't know any Marios."  
  
Randi let out a sigh of annoyance, and put the magazine down to look around the desk area. She finally found a post-it on her thigh, and peeled it of to bring it forward. "Don Burke from the Marriott called, tell Dr. Kovac."  
  
Luka grabbed the note from her hands and read it also, then crumbled it and threw it away.   
  
Randi gave him a questioning look, but decided not to let the Grouch ruin her day, so she went back to her horoscope. Cancer: This is the month for you to make some economical investments. The moon is in alignment with Mars, making it a perfect time to meet that special someone. Excellent.   
  
Carter let out a sigh and threw a chart on the desk, adding more to the pile. If Kerry was there, she would have them all neatly stacked on the rack, but she wasn't, so the front desk was a big mess. He met Luka by the computer. "Hey."  
  
Luka looked up, "Hi."  
  
"Are you going home soon?" Carter asked.   
  
Luka looked at his watch, the soft light of the computer screen illuminating his face. "In a couple of hours." He looked up at Carter, "Do you have plans?"  
  
Carter curled his mouth, "Yeah, actually, I have a date with Georgia."  
  
"Not anymore you don't," Randi jumped in.   
  
Carter gave her a questioning look as she began frantically searching for something. He finally spotted a small yellow paper on her back and peeled it off. "Georgia something called, has to go home, can't make it tonight, tell Dr. Carter, pick up my diaphragm..."  
  
Randi snapped the paper away before Carter could finish.   
  
"Why did she have to go home?" Carter asked, confused.  
  
"Do I look like a fortune teller?" Randi quipped.   
  
Carter moaned and turned to Luka, "I guess I don't have plans anymore."  
  
Luka looked up, "It's Saturday night," he lamented.   
  
"It's Saturday night!" Dave exclaimed as he walked into the desk area.  
  
"At least someone's taking the news well," Carter said.   
  
Dave leaned on the counter, next to Luka, who was still on the computer. "Why the long faces?" He looked from Luka to Carter, to Randi.   
  
"Carter got dumped," Randi said calmly.  
  
"No, I didn't get dumped, our plans got cancelled," Carter said defensively.   
  
Dave nodded, "What's wrong with him?" he pointed to Luka.  
  
Randi looked up again, "Abby, and I think he's getting evicted."  
  
Luka glanced up at that, and gave her a frown.   
  
"Oh come on," Dave said. "That's no reason to be so gloom." He looked at Carter, "So, your girlfriend dumped you," then at Luka, "So yours is miles away and now you're homeless. It's not that bad."  
  
"She didn't dump me, she had to go home," Carter said.   
  
"I'm not a hobo," Luka added.   
  
"Whatever, come on," Dave insisted and looked at Randi, "Randi, what do you do when your boyfriend's out of town?"  
  
"Go out with his brother," Randi said casually.  
  
"See?" Dave said.   
  
Luka seemed to consider that for a moment, "Well, I could call Abby's brother, but I don't think I can handle a long distance relationship."  
  
"Fine, fine," Dave said, "You don't have to be sarcastic about it. But what do you say, boys night?"  
  
"With you?" Luka asked incredulously.   
  
"Last time I went out with you, Dave, I had to make a phone call to my sister at 4 in the morning with a quarter I borrowed from a guy named Bubba, who is still leaving messages on my answering machine," Carter said as he read a chart.   
  
"I didn't know those women were prostitutes," Dave said defensively.   
  
Carter looked up, "Dave, they had their rates tattooed to their arms."  
  
"For your information those could have easily been quotes for the Bible," Dave said.   
  
"I doubt there's something on the Bible about 'Thou shall charged 20 dollars for a holy blow job'" Carter quipped, making Luka smirk.   
  
"Ok, ok, so I did know they were prostitutes, forgive me for trying to get you laid," Dave said. "No prostitutes tonight, I swear. What do you say?" he asked again.   
  
Luka looked at Carter, who had the same doubtful look on his face. He finally let out a sigh, "No dancing," he said and walked away.  
  
"And no women," Carter followed.  
  
"Fine, no dancing, no women, I'll bring the CandyLand," Dave said.   
  
Randi approached him, "Wow, a date with Tom Pity and the Heartbreakee, sorry I can't make it," she said sarcastically.   
  
"Now. By the end of the night those two will be partying like it's 19-, um, 2000 and," he shook his head in confusion. "They'll be partying, ok?"  
  
Randi reached into her bag and gave him a camera, "Here's my Polaroid. I'll give you 100 dollars for a naked Luka. 150 for both and 200 for naked Luka and Carter in a compromising yet delicious position. I'll throw you a bonus if they're in the bathroom."  
  
Dave took the camera and gave her a suggestive look, "How much if I'm in the picture also?"  
  
Randi smiled mischievously, "Rubba dub dub, three men in a tub."  
  
---------------------  
  
Abby watched carefully as everyone walked out of the cafeteria, ready to go to their respective meetings. It was beginning to set outside, but she didn't notice that. She hadn't noticed anything from the time her mother came in and she still was numbed. She spent all day in her room, knowing Maggie was somewhere around the center, probably talking to every single person about her daughter, telling people embarrassing stories about baby Abby. But this time Abby simply didn't care.   
  
She felt someone sit down next to her, and was about to tell Ben to fuck off when she found someone else instead.   
  
Harold gave her a warm smile, and extended his hand, "I'm Harold."  
  
"Abby," Abby said, but didn't shake his hand. She wasn't trying to be rude, but her arms were just not answering to all the messages her brain was sending them.   
  
Harold stared at her for a while, and then looked forward, to whatever it was she was looking. "Look," he started. "I know this is, hard, but Maggie is not lying this time, she really is taking her medication."  
  
Abby looked at him for a moment, her mouth curled, almost forming an S. Then she went back to watching everyone leave.   
  
Harold let out a sigh, "You know, I'm Bipolar too."  
  
Abby nodded, "That's... very convenient."  
  
"We met in New York," he continued. "Maggie wanted to show Calvin Klein some of her designs, and the receptionist called security. I knew what was going on, so I took her outside, and calmed her down."  
  
Abby nodded again, craving a cigarette like she never had before. "That was very nice of you, Harold. Sounds like love at first sight."  
  
Harold smiled, "We're both taking our medication. I make sure she takes hers, and we have that log." He paused for a moment, and then continued, "I'll take good care of her, I promise."  
  
Abby smiled, and looked at him, "You're here to ask for permission to marry her?"  
  
Harold chuckled, "No, I already asked."  
  
Abby nodded. She looked down at her fingers, and then at Harold, "Well, I should go now." She stood up, knowing this wasn't the last time she'd see this guy, and walked away from him. Indeed, God bless that poor soul.  
  
------------------------  
  
Dave peeked his head out the window and took a deep breath of fresh air. "Do you smell that? There's women around here, I can taste it."  
  
"Dave, please keep your eyes on the road," Carter said, trying to reach for the wheel.  
  
Dave finally sat back. "How you doing back there, Kovac?" he asked as he looked at his friend through the rear view mirror.  
  
Luka looked around the seat, trying to wipe all the empty containers of junk food away. "Just familiarizing myself with your video collection." He reached inside a bag and took out some videos. "Girls Gone Wild," he read.  
  
"It's, a documentary," Dave said sheepishly.   
  
"Where are we going, anyway?" Carter asked.   
  
"Some place I'd like to call: you'll see." Dave pulled his car in front of a loud building, filled with people to over saturation and women of all shapes and sizes, but still the same small amount of clothing, pranced around.   
  
"No way," Carter said.   
  
"Oh no, I know the bouncer, we won't have to stay in line," Dave said.   
  
Luka shook his head, "I'm not going in there."  
  
"Ditto," Carter said.   
  
"Well, no one who still uses the word 'ditto' will ever get in there. So just act like you're cool," Dave said.   
  
"Dave, we agreed this was not what we wanted to do," Carter reiterated.   
  
"Dave! It's Dave!" a woman who was not visible yelled, and then all of a sudden the car was surrounded by women, rocking it back and forth.   
  
Carter and Luka pulled the locks as they tried to pull the windows up quickly.  
  
"My club fan," Dave said humbly over the cries of all the women.   
  
"Let's go!" Luka yelled.   
  
Dave let out a sigh, and started driving away. "Congratulations, you've just saved yourselves of a week of sex."  
  
---------------------  
  
"Thank you, thank you so much for doing this," Maggie said as she walked with Renee down a hall.  
  
Renee smiled, "Where's your friend?"  
  
"He's eating something. I-I really don't know how to thank you. What are we doing now?" Maggie asked quickly.   
  
"We're going to a session, we have these every night, and sometimes we have guests, you are ours tonight," Renee said.   
  
Maggie turned serious, "In front of everyone?"  
  
"Yeah," Renee said casually. She opened the door, and Maggie peeked her head inside where she saw around 10 people in a circle, all looking at the two chairs in the middle. Abby sat in one, her head dropped, hair cascading down to her shoulders. That made Maggie even more nervous, as if she was in a hearing. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?  
  
"Maggie?" a middle aged woman stood up. "I'm Beth. Why don't you sit down?"  
  
Maggie nodded nervously, and proceeded to take the seat in front of Abby, facing her daughter. She put her hand on Abby's thigh, but the tensed muscles she found there made her retrieve.   
  
Renee approached Beth, "You don't mind if I hang around, do you?"  
  
Beth smiled, "No, take a seat." She put her cup of coffee down, and sat in a chair in the middle, facing the two women. "Ok, let's get started."  
  
---------------------------  
  
Dave pushed an old door to an old bar and stepped inside with incredulous eyes, "You've got to be kidding me."  
  
Carter and Luka decided to ignore him and they walked out back where there was an available table. The bar was softly illuminated by old lamps, and the music was soft, yet not a soft genre. Some men were playing pool, other darts, the rest sitting by the bar. It was almost a depressing sight, if it wasn't for the good camaraderie.  
  
An old man came to the table, wearing a white apron, a towel over his shoulder, and a pencil pinned between his ear and his head. "What can I get you fellows?"  
  
"Draft please," Luka said.   
  
"Can I get a coke?" Carter added.   
  
Dave, who was busy looking around, finally stared at the man, "Corona, with lemon."  
  
"Got it," the bartender said and walked away.  
  
Carter looked at a standing Dave, and pushed the last available sit with his foot. "Sit down, you're not gonna grow any taller."  
  
Dave sat down on the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. "So, do you guys come here often?"  
  
"Not really," Carter said.   
  
"Oh good," Dave said. "I was worried you already knew there's married men in here."  
  
Luka looked around, "So?"  
  
"So?" Dave asked in disbelief. "They're... married. They have wives, some have children. They come here every week to talk about their wives menopause, and then they go home."  
  
Carter chuckled, "You know, Dave, you're 30 years old, you didn't think you'd still go to clubs in your 40's, like those middle aged men who still have motorcycles."  
  
Dave scratched his nose, "Smells like Jean Nate in here." He let out a sigh, and looked at his two friends, "So what are we supposed to do here?"  
  
Carter shrugged his shoulders, "Talk, maybe?"  
  
Dave stared at him for a moment. "That's gotta be the gayest thing I've ever heard."  
  
"You're free to leave if you like," Luka added.   
  
Dave looked at the bartender, "Forget the beer, get me a whiskey. There's no way I'm getting all fruity while I'm sober."  
  
-------------------------  
  
The entire room was filled with an eerie silence, a deadly awkward pause, and if you listened carefully, you could hear Abby's heart pounding loudly on her chest. Maggie looked like she had just been told she had 5 minutes to live, but Abby looked strong, Abby always looked strong. She shifted on her seat, as they all waited for the witness to answer the question.  
  
Maggie took a deep breath.   
  
"Maggie, look at Abby," Beth said.   
  
Maggie looked up slowly, too slowly. She met her daughter's eyes, covered with a thin layer of strength. She began to stammer, and then all of a sudden some incoherent words came out. She stopped. And with a deep breath, she looked at Abby again. "I don't know. I don't know. I," she let out the air of her lungs, "There are some things in life that make you happy. Abby knows that. I always wanted to be an artist, I wanted to draw, and design. When I was little that was the only thing that kept me sane." She paused at the irony of her description. "It still does. But if I take the medication, then I can't draw as well as I can when I'm manic, and if I don't draw well, I get frustrated, and mad."  
  
Bath nodded, "Why mad?"  
  
Maggie let out another sigh, "I can't do anything else. I can't... do math, I never was a good student, or a good daughter. I was never a good wife, I'm not even a good mother." Her voice cracked at that last statement, but she decided to continue. "The only positive comments I receive are about my paintings, everyone likes them. That's the only thing people like about me."  
  
She still looked at Abby, who was looking at her with a blank expression on her face, not even moving.   
  
"And that upsets you?" Beth asked.   
  
Maggie looked at her, "How would you feel, if the only thing you're good at you can't do because you have to take medication? If you take your medication, you're worthless, and if you don't, you're a horrible person."  
  
"So you'd rather be a horrible person?" Beth asked.   
  
Maggie closed her eyes tight, and bit her lip, "If I don't take my medication then I have an excuse to be worthless and horrible, but when I take the medication, I'm still worthless and horrible, only that's just who I am."  
  
-------------------------  
  
"You guys, you guys are great," Dave slurred, grabbing Luka's neck and forcing his friend into an embrace. "Hey, man, I love you, I really do. I mean, I really love you," he chuckled.   
  
Luka smiled, "I love you too, Dave."  
  
"And Carter," Dave looked at his other friend, not taking his hand off of Luka's neck. "I love you too man."  
  
Carter nodded, "That's very nice, Dave."  
  
"I mean, I do, you know. Kerry, Kerry hates me. But you guys, you guys are great," Dave repeated.   
  
"Dave, maybe we should get you a cup of coffee," Luka said with a smile.   
  
"No! I'm having fun," Dave said. "Are you having fun?"  
  
"I always have fun when you declare your undying love for me, Dave," Luka joked.   
  
That sent Dave into a hysterical laughter. "No, man, I don't swing that way," he said.   
  
"I'm starting to wonder how much it takes for you to swing that way, Dave," Carter said, putting the empty bottle of whiskey away.  
  
Dave turned serious, "But you know who I love the most?" he asked Luka.   
  
"Who?" Luka asked, going along.  
  
"I love you, Claire. I-I really do love you," he said very seriously.   
  
Luka looked at Carter, "Think Claire is a girlfriend?"  
  
"Or a tall Croatian man," Carter said.   
  
"But don't worry, we'll, we'll go to Vegas, and get married, and, and, God I love you," Dave kept saying.   
  
"Now that's just sad," Carter said.   
  
"Come on, Dave," Luka said, sitting his friend back down but as soon as he did so, Dave passed out on the table.   
  
--------------------------  
  
"Abby?" Beth asked.   
  
Abby bit her lip inside her mouth, and looked up, "He left when I was 7. September 3th 1976. It was raining, and Eric was crying, he was 6. He told me he had to go away for a while, but that he'd be back on weekends to check up on us. He was wearing a blue shirt, and a green tie, and he smelled of after shave. He had one of those old brown bags with him." She took a breath, "I knew he wasn't coming back, so I asked him to take me with him, but he said no because I had to take care of Maggie and Eric." She sniffed and cleared her throat, "Then a couple of days later Maggie said we were moving to Florida because all of a sudden she wanted to live near the beach, and I spent the rest of my childhood cooking, and cleaning, and praying that my dad would come back to get us, but he never did."  
  
"How did that make you feel?" Beth asked.   
  
Abby gave her a duh look, and then looked down at her fingers, "He was my lifeline, he was the only thing that could make things better. When Christmas came I always went down to the mall and asked Santa to bring my dad back, but every Christmas I woke up and there was nothing under the tree, there was rarely a tree there."  
  
"Maggie?" Beth asked.   
  
Maggie let out a sigh, and shook her head. "I, I- he left. I wanted my kids to have a father..."  
  
"You made us move away from him," Abby interrupted her.   
  
"Abby, let her talk," Beth said.   
  
Maggie watched as Abby looked away in scorn, and continued. "I love my kids, more than anything in the world. I thought I was making a good decision by moving away. I wanted them to start someplace new, away from all that brought so much sadness into our lives. I know I was a bad mother, but that doesn't mean I don't love them."  
  
-----------------------  
  
"So, third date already," Luka said as he tore little pieces of his napkin and threw them into Dave's hair.   
  
"Well, two so far," Carter said.   
  
"How are things going?" Luka asked.   
  
Carter smiled, "I think really well. I really like her, she's fun."  
  
Luka nodded, "Do you... talk a lot?"  
  
Carter took a deep breath, and cleaned his throat, "She doesn't know yet. I mean, I know I should tell her, but it's still early, and I don't wanna scare her away," he admitted.   
  
Dave was drooling on the table, and Luka continued to fill his hair with miniature balls of white paper. "I think it's important that she knows."  
  
"I know," Carter said. "It's just not easy. I mean, I thought that I'd go to rehab, and never crave drugs again, and everything would go back to normal. But now I wake up every morning, and there seems to be bottles of pills everywhere. Then the hospital is full of pain killers." He shook his head, "Well, that doesn't bother me anymore, it's... it's everyone. I know that I did what I did and I have to live with it, but sometimes I feel like people are talking behind by back, and I'm scared that I'll never meet someone because I'll always have to tell her that I'm a drug addict."  
  
Luka nodded, "Well, that shouldn't matter."  
  
"Well, to a degree it doesn't, but it makes it harder. I mean, what did you do when Abby told you she was a drunk?" Carter asked.   
  
Drunk. Luka still hated that word. Why did they have to call her a drunk? Why not something nicer, like a recovering alcoholic? Not that it was nicer, but it didn't sound as accusatory. "Well," he played with the napkin some more. "I... to tell you the truth, when she told me I wasn't listening very well. I was listening, but it was very complicated. Still, I, I don't think I'd let that get in the way."  
  
Carter let a little silence get into the conversation for a moment, for dramatic purposes. He took a sip of the beer he had ordered when he got sick of drinking coke, and put it down. After playing with the label for a while, he looked at Luka, "Do you love her?"  
  
Luka didn't react, but kept staring at the mouth of his beer. There was no doubt in his mind that he could trust in Carter and he wouldn't mock him or tell anyone else. Since Abby had gone to rehab, they had become good friends. Actually, Luka hadn't had a friend like Carter since he lived back home. He had missed that. It's not something you think you crave until you have it again. He had to admit that things were slowly coming to place, one by one. At least in his life.   
  
He cleaned his throat, and raised his eyebrows. "Why do you ask that?"  
  
"It just..." Carter started. "I don't know how men behave back in Croatia, but here only a few would do what you've done for Abby."  
  
"You wouldn't?" Luka asked.   
  
"Of course, she's my friend. I love Abby to death, but, that's different," Carter said.   
  
Luka suddenly wondered why Carter was always asking him things about Abby. She was probably 90% of their conversations. Well, he knew why. Carter wanted to squeeze it out of him, wanted Luka to solve the puzzle. Problem was that a couple of pieces were missing.   
  
------------------------  
  
"People always point at me and judge me because they don't understand why I don't take care of my own mother," Abby said, already feeling a headache. "Sometimes people forget that I'm allowed to feel a certain way, and act another. Just because she's sick doesn't mean I have to be perfect to save the family. I tried to save the family for years. I changed diapers, I cooked, I cleaned, I did my homework. I always tried to be the perfect daughter, but I never was because Maggie always failed to see that."  
  
"I did see it, Abby," Maggie said.   
  
"You never acknowledged it," Abby said. "I don't care about what you think or don't think, but I had to live with the fact that there was a monster under my bed because I didn't have anyone to scare it away from me. I learned from a boy at school that there was no Santa Claus, and no Easter bunny. And then I had to read a book about menstrual cycles because I had no idea what was happening to my body. Then I had to cook for Eric, and cook for Maggie, and then spend all night seating in front of her door, with my ear glued to it, trying to decide when was the best time to call 911."  
  
Maggie just bit her lip, and looked away.  
  
Abby shook her head again, hitting the armchairs. "I don't think we're going anywhere with this."  
  
Beth decided to ignore that, and leaned forward on her chair, "What do you want from Maggie, Abby?"  
  
Abby thought of that for a moment, or rather just let time pass, because she felt like she couldn't think anymore. "I want my childhood. I want a mother, and I want my father."  
  
"I can't give you that, Abby," Maggie said.   
  
"I just want you to know that's what I want," Abby said. "I don't even know how to be a wife, because I never learned that from my mom. I've been on the pill since I was a teenager because I am terrified of being the mother you were. How can I even love someone when I have no idea what love is?"  
  
-----------------------  
  
"What is love, really?" Carter asked. "I mean, you fall in love, you fall out of love, and the cycle starts again."  
  
"I don't think you ever fall out of love, there's always something that stays there," Luka said.   
  
Carter took a deep breath, "I've never been in love. I, I came close once, but, um, she moved away. I mean, my parents were never around, I don't even know how to be a husband, or how to be a father. What am I going to do when I have kids?"  
  
Luka smiled, "Nothing prepares you for that, Carter."  
  
"I know," Carter said. "But you know what they say about kids picking up these things from their parents."  
  
Luka brushed some paper balls off of Dave's hair, smiling, remembering his own kids and how much he wanted to have that again, at least for a couple of minutes.   
  
"You never answered my question," Carter said, taking another sip of his beer.   
  
Luka still smiled. "It's complicated, Carter. Love has a way of always coming at the worst time possible."  
  
Carter just looked at him, with a knowing look. "That's all I needed to hear." He took the last sip of his beer and set it down. "Dave's right, this is kinda gay."  
  
Luka chuckled, and looked at his watch, "We should go."  
  
"Let me get this," Carter said.  
  
"No, no, I got it," Luka said, reaching for his wallet.  
  
"No, it's ok," Carter said, and reached for Dave's wallet. He dropped some bills on the table, and put the wallet back into Dave's pants, while their friend snored lightly. He looked at Dave for a moment, "Too bad we have a conscience."  
  
Luka stood up, and grabbed one of Dave's arms, "Too bad you don't live with Kerry anymore, we could have them wake up together."  
  
Carter laughed as they both carried Dave out of the bar. "I wonder who's Claire."  
  
----------------------------  
  
Five little speckled frogs fell asleep against each other on a speckled log. But where was the speckled mom?  
  
"I don't want much from Abby. I want her to take care of herself, and I want her to be happy," Maggie said, almost crying. Almost. "I never wanted to be the mother I was, I still don't want to be the mother I am."  
  
"Tell her that," Beth said.  
  
Maggie looked at Abby, who looked drained and lost. "I want you to be happy, honey. If that means I'll have to move to another country, or another planet, I will. I just want you to be happy."  
  
Abby didn't answer.  
  
"Maggie, how do you feel about Abby's drinking?" Beth asked.   
  
Maggie shook her head, "I know that's all my fault, it is." She looked at Abby, "You may not know this, Abby, but you are the pride of the family. With everything that happened, you still managed to pull through, you gave up drinking, you went to med school, you're independent and strong. But sometimes we feel like you like destroying yourself. Why, Abby? You deserve so much more than this," she said.   
  
"Abby?" Beth asked.   
  
Abby bit her lip, tired of this back and forth banter. "That's why I'm here, isn't it?"  
  
"Is it?" Beth asked.   
  
"Yes," Abby said. She looked at Maggie, "I loved you most of the time. Most of the time I tried to tell myself that my mother was a sick person, and that she didn't do those things on purpose. I hated you most of the time also. You said that painting was what made you happy and that's why you didn't take your medication. But what about us? We didn't make you happy? I hated you for that."  
  
"I hate myself for that too, Abby," Maggie said. "But I love you, and I love Eric."  
  
Abby shook her head. The cycle begins again.   
  
Beth looked around the room, at everyone's sleepy faces, and she looked at her watch. "Abby, is there anything else you want to tell your mom?"  
  
Abby looked at her lap, playing with her fingers, "Good luck, mom."  
  
Maggie nodded, and everyone began to stand up. Eventually they all left, and Abby and Maggie stayed alone. Abby leaned back on the chair. "He's a nice man, I hope you don't break his heart."  
  
"I have something for you," Maggie said, reaching into her bag. She took out a notebook and put it on Abby's lap. "It's my log. I, filled it out, and..." she shook her head, "I just wanted you to see that I can be a better person. And now I want you to show me that you can too."   
  
Abby opened the notebook, looking inside, all the medication taken written down neatly and detailed in amount and timing.   
  
Maggie stood up, and kissed Abby's head. "Good luck, honey."  
  
I loved you most of the time.   
  
"This is the last one," said 32 year old Abby as her mother walked away.   
  
  
To be continued...  
  



	12. 24 Steps: Part 12

  
Disclaimer: I own every single character. Huh? What are you gonna do, NBC? Come down and get me!  
  
Author's Notes: Well, no matter how much I promise, I never seem to get these out quickly, huh? Blame my boss for that. This part is a little weird, so pay attention.   
  
  
"24 Steps: Part 12" by Carolina  
  
  
Silence. Not something you want to hear when so many people are staring at you as if you were about to read a living will. Not something you want to hear when you have no idea what to say, and not something you want to hear when beads of sweat are rolling down your spine.   
  
Not even the air conditioner was making its usual humming around the room, no one was coughing, no one shifting on their seat. Pure and complete dead silence. One which was only interrupted by the discharge of a warm sigh.   
  
"Uh, my name's Luka..." he was about to say his last name but stopped himself before doing so, remembering no one used last names around here. He didn't wait for an acknowledgement because frankly, he hated that part. That didn't stop anyone from letting out a collective hello.  
  
He hated speaking in front of people. It was a fear which started the minute he was born and a fear which almost cost him his admission to medical school, and then his graduation. Nothing had made him get over it, but for some crazy reason, there he was.   
  
So he fidgeted with his fingers and looked up to see all the expectant faces looking at him. "Um, I've been coming here for a while, but I have never said anything, I haven't even spoken to any of you." For a moment he toyed with the idea of feeling bad about that, but he seriously didn't, so he continued.   
  
"My girlfriend is an alcoholic. Sheeee, she drank before we met, and she was sober for five years but she relapsed." He paused, expecting someone to stand up and raise the roof, but everyone stayed quiet. That was worse.   
  
So he decided to play with the papers on the podium instead, there were no faces looking at him there. "Um, she's in rehab, and she's doing well..." he stopped.  
  
It suddenly occurred to him that he had no clue as to why he had offered to share. He had nothing he cared for sharing with anyone here. People came here once a week and poured their hearts out and talked it all over until their sobs made it impossible for them to continue. But that was an option which was not available. There would be no crying tonight, no sir. Not only did Luka Kovac disliked talking in front of people; he didn't show vulnerability in front of them either.   
  
--------------------  
  
This was it. The night everybody hated. Well, most people loved it, really. It wasn't looking good for her, though. On the one hand, she couldn't wait to go home. On the other, she'd miss this place. It had become a shelter, a sanctuary. Everyone knew what she was going through but they wouldn't take crap from her. The last month had seemed more like 30 years. Days were longer now, hours excruciating. It was like sitting in front of a clock and watching it move. Sometimes the second hand moved backwards, only to move forward again. You want it to go faster, but they say a watched pot never boils.   
  
That was pretty much her life in that saying.   
  
A watched life never goes forward. A watched alcoholic never recovers.   
  
Everyone was looking her way, but she didn't feel awkward about it, not at all. She had gotten used to all those familiar eyes looking her way, the insecure arms hugging some knees, the trembling fingers as they played with the laces of some shoes.   
  
This was the last time she would share in front of all these people. There were still a few meetings away, but this was the last time it would be all about Abby. She didn't know what they would do... maybe throw a pitch of Gatorade over her head, or do some hazing.   
  
She opted for the Gatorade.   
  
Instead, Renee walked into the room and greeted some of the people. Ben was looking at Abby as if she was a stranger. He was mad, she knew that. But what could she do?  
  
"Abby?"  
  
She looked up to see Renee standing next to her, with a few things in her hands.   
  
"Well, this isn't a celebration, or a farewell party. But, um, I can safely say that some of us are going to miss you around here," Renee said warmly.   
  
Abby knew she was lying. How would they miss her? Tomorrow another Abby Lockhart would walk through those doors with her boyfriend and everyone would forget who she was. That was the life at rehab centers. Checking in, checking out, hope I never see you again.   
  
She smiled anyway.   
  
"Um, I know you don't want us to make a big deal about this, and I know you have shared almost everything. I do use the word almost, because I want you to do one more thing for us," Renee said.   
  
Abby raised her eyebrows and looked around, "You want me to sneak some booze in?"  
  
Lame joke, but some sympathetic people chuckled unconvincingly.   
  
Renee sat next to Abby, and gave her a small notebook. "Why don't you read something for us?"  
  
Abby looked at the journal in her hands, and played with it for a while, running her fingers through the front and back. This was the journal she had received when she checked in; the one they always encouraged her to write on. She opened it and immediately realized what Renee wanted her to do was read to everyone her deepest thoughts, her private emotions.   
  
"Can I just, summarize instead?" she asked Renee, a little hopeful.  
  
"Why don't you read the marked pages?" Renee said encouragingly, ignoring Abby's plea.   
  
Abby let out a sigh and stood up, opening her journal as she did so. The writing was that of a child, or at least as if she had used one of those trembling pens, which she hadn't seen since the 80's. Some letters were washed away by tears, some pages smudged together by humidity. It was like finding an old diary and discovering forgotten thoughts.   
  
She cleared her throat, and found the first bookmark as some waited for her to start, some not even caring. If she wasn't leaving sober out of this place, she was definitely leaving embarrassed.   
  
"Ok," she said before anything, and took a deep breath. "Um, April 12th, 2001. Nothing new to say today, I'm just writing this down because Renee is looking at me." Some chuckled softly at that, including Renee, who was looking up at her with a smile on her face.   
  
"Um," she continued. "What else can I say? Besides: I really want a drink right now," she turned serious at that, so did everyone else. "I've been here for two days, and I don't see how I can possibly survive another 28. I hate this place. I hate my room, I hate the food, I hate the songs and chants, and I hate the people. I hate, that's all I feel right now. I can't think straight, because I can't hear over the painful pounding on my head. My hands keep shaking and I hate that the most. I hate it so much that sometimes I feel tempted to run the hot water and sticking them under it."  
  
She closed her fist, trying to hide the small scar. She looked up and everyone was looking at her expectantly. Her eyes stung, but she blinked that away. "I really haven't made any friends here and I'm not expecting to. The last thing I wanna do right now is sit down and talk about the weather with someone who's not even listening because they're thinking the same thing I am. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be on this planet. I wanna turn back time and make it stop forever. I want to go home, but I want to run away too. I've heard it's beautiful down in the south. Maybe I'll buy a small farm and live there alone, eating things I cultivate myself..." she realized that this was getting boring, so she skipped a few parts.   
  
She cleared her throat yet again. "I even miss Chicago, and I miss my patients. I miss Carter and the nurses, and I miss Luka." She paused to swallow that bulge on her throat away, and continued. "I know he thinks this is his fault, but I wished I could convince him it's not. He doesn't deserve this; he doesn't know what a piece of shit I am. Sometimes I wonder why he's with me. I was there for him once, when I showed him the best of me. Then things got better for him, and he started seeing the worst in me. He's still with me. I don't think that'll be for too long, though. I'm pretty sure he'll go his way once I'm out of here and that's another thing that makes me mad because right now I miss him as much as I miss the booze."  
  
She chuckled to herself, "I don't remember writing that." She sniffed and looked at Renee, "It stops there."  
  
------------------------  
  
"I was married before, and when you lose a spouse, you only remember the good things and they become angels. It's hard to admit that my wife had flaws, but it's hard to admit Abby has them also. She's perfect and I keep thinking that maybe this is just like the flu. So maybe if I take care of her for a while, it'll go away," he stopped, still looking down at the podium.   
  
He took a deep breath, but didn't let it out. "I'm scared, because she's coming home and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say to her, or how to act around her. I don't know if she wants me to go about as if nothing had happened, or if she wants to talk about it. One of our friends is a drug addict, and him and Abby go to meetings together and they always know what to say to each other. She's always been very independent and after months I'm still trying to get her to trust me completely. So, um, I guess that's why I came here. My girlfriend is coming home and I don't know what to do," he said with a gulp.   
  
-----------------------  
  
"April 18th, 2001. It's raining outside, it started during the night. The sound of it makes me feel a little better, and it's ironic how wet it is outside yet my mouth is so dry. Maybe it's not an irony, who knows. When I was 8 I remember one time when it was raining like crazy in Florida, just like it is here. It was a Saturday and Eric was hungry, so I made him some pancakes before I went up the stairs to wake Maggie up for work. The door was locked, but I had learned to use my bobby pins to open it, and as I did, I found her on her bed, in the same clothes she had the day before. Another cycle had started. I still didn't understand well what was wrong with her, so I did as my aunt told me, just learn to live with it."  
  
She cleared her throat and shifted on her feet, wondering why on earth Renee wanted her to read this particular story. "I laid next to her on the bed, listening to the rain outside. She was awake, but she didn't even move when I laid my head a few inches away from hers. I laid there for a while, and I know she was awake. But I didn't say anything. I didn't sleep either. I just stared at her closed eyes. After what must have been hours, she finally opened them. It was then when I understood. We stared at each other forever, none of us saying anything. At that moment I realized what was wrong. Through her eyes, I saw the mania, the moods, the insanity and the madness. They paraded in her eyes like the Macy's parade, and I was a witness of it all. It was frightening to see all those things on your own mother. All those things my dad and other family members had told me about Maggie being sick never made any sense, because I barely saw her strike a fever or throw up. But Maggie's eyes explained everything to me. After that I went to the library and read the few articles on manic depression, but none of it made as much sense as it did seeing it through her own eyes."  
  
Abby stopped for a moment and licked her lower lip as she played with the corner of the page, but the silence was worse, so she continued. "Suddenly her eyes went black, all black, and she closed them again. She didn't come out of that room for 2 weeks, and I never went back in."  
  
-----------------------  
  
"I spend almost every night reading articles about alcoholics, and I've probably been to every internet site. I keep reading books and I keep asking questions but the more people try to explain it to me, the more confused and scared I get. I don't know how to handle this, I never had to deal with an... something like this on a personal level."  
  
He took a deep breath. "I'm a doctor, on an emergency room, and every night we get at least two drunks who come in because they have no where to sleep. We always put them on a bed and ignore them for the rest of the night. When I came to this country it bothered me. I stared at those men and it disgusted me the way they'd rather drink than go to a job interview. Then Abby told me she was an alcoholic. I remember feeling nothing when she did, because I was battling with my own demons, and it never came up in a conversation again, I'm sure I even forgot about it."  
  
Luka looked up at all the faces looking at him, and then looked down again because for some reason he didn't want to stop; everything was pouring out of him like lava. "Um, a couple of months later her mother came to town, she has manic-depression and, um, Abby has had to deal with her since she was little. She used to say that everything's ok, and that she was used to dealing with Maggie's moods, but I knew she wasn't ok. The thought that she could relapse didn't even occur to me, and it didn't even happen until a couple of weeks later."  
  
He curled his mouth, realizing he was saying things he didn't even know he knew. "I, um, I didn't make things easier either, because I wasn't there when she needed me. Everything was going ok, though. We were talking, and her mother was taking her medication, and... Abby was doing great." He shook his head and continued. "She was laughing and smiling every day, and she was making more jokes than usual. It made me feel better too because it seemed like everything was fixed and we'd finally be able to focus on us." He let out another sigh, "Then all of a sudden she was depressed again, and I was scared because I thought... I don't know what I thought."  
  
"I didn't want to think she was Bipolar also, but I couldn't find another explanation. She lost a lot of weight, and she rarely smiled. I tried to ask her what was wrong but she said everything was ok." He paused, wanting to stop but not being able to. "One night I, um, I found her at a bar, and, uh, it was one of the most horrible things I have seen in my life. She was unconscious, and I didn't know what to do. I took her to my room and waited for her to wake up. It was scary, mostly because I felt," he let out another sigh, but of frustration, "because at that moment it really sank in. She's a drunk."  
  
-----------------------  
  
"April 26rd, 2001. I haven't written anything in a couple of days because I can't concentrate much. Despite the turmoil in my head, I actually feel a little better. The trembling is stopping, I'm eating better now, but then other days I can't get out of bed. Mostly I'm frustrated. I wanna go home, I think I can handle that. I went to the reception today, determined to sign myself out of here. I must have leaned against that wall for hours, and finally turned around and came back here. I don't know why, but when I was standing there I remembered Maggie. I don't wanna be like her, so I decided to stay."  
  
She stopped, and as she closed the journal, she looked at Renee.   
  
"And here you are," her sponsor said.   
  
Abby looked at her in confusion, and looked at the journal again. "I don't get it."   
  
Renee stood up. "You can take it home with you. Read it when you like lost, or like you want a drink. Mostly read it when you want a drink," she smiled.   
  
Abby nodded, looking at the book and putting it on the chair.   
  
"Is there something else you wanna say?" Beth asked, smiling from her chair.   
  
Abby looked at the floor for a moment, and then looked up at everyone around the room. "Thank you, for taking all my crap. And, um, I'll miss you," she smiled. She really wanted to let all these people know how grateful she was, but she didn't want to be too emotional either. Still, deep inside, she knew they knew she'd always carry a soft spot for them.  
  
She sat back on her chair with a smile on her face, watching as other people started sharing their problems with the group. Mostly she couldn't help but watching that new young woman on the other side of the room, her hands shaking, her face sweaty, her knees up on the chair. She had a hell of a few weeks ahead of her.   
  
-----------------------  
  
"Nothing you read or hear prepares you to deal with things like this," the man at the podium started. "I must have read thousands of articles too but I find it that every time my dad drinks, the experiences afterwards are different. And, it's normal to feel scared, because you don't know what's going to happen. When you see alcoholics walking down the street it's different, because, well, you don't care. But when it's someone you love the emotions are so acute that it leaves you clueless."  
  
Luka kept staring at him, feeling ashamed about all the things he had said, but desperately hanging on to the man's every word.   
  
"Mostly you feel hurt because in your own selfishness, the idea that they won't stop for you makes you angry, and anger leads to bitterness, and then you don't want anything to do with them, and that makes them want to drink more. So it's a cycle. But it's natural. Don't hide your emotions. As much as this is a sickness, you also have the right to feel, and have opinions. If you don't let her know how you feel, then she won't have a reason to go forward. As much as they have to do these things by themselves, they have to know that they hurt us when they drink. I must have begged my father a thousand times, I still do. But this is different because it's my father. I can't just break up with him, his battle is mine also. My girlfriend is not an alcoholic, but even if she was there's no way I can tell you what to do, Luka. You'll learn to deal with it by yourself. It's like learning to ride a bike. Hopefully the bumps will disappear and the ride will become easier."  
  
"Don't be negative. The best advice I can give you is to be patient. It takes a lot to deal with this, so if you feel like you can't handle it, it's best to step out. But don't be afraid to give it your best, give her a reason to get better." He smiled warmly. "Good luck, Luka."  
  
Good luck indeed.  
  
-----------------------  
  
The car slowly came to a stop, making that gravel sound as the tires collided with the small pebbles of the parking lot. Coincidentally, that was the same parking space he had left his car when he came to drop her off. Not that he had the memory of an elephant, but he could remember every single event of that night as if they had happened only 5 minutes ago. He could still hear the sounds of the morning as the sun rose, could feel Abby's trembling hand inside his own, and still felt confused as thousands of thoughts raced through his mind like a whirlwind of negative and positive ideas, both running forward, backwards, against each other until there was nothing but utter confusion.   
  
It was quiet, too quiet. There was something about silence which always made him feel comfortable, as if the definition of the word carried a picture of himself in the dictionary. He had always enjoyed silence, peace, serenity... but this silence he didn't like. This was the silence that came before a tidal wave, the silence before war. His heart was getting restless and his mind began to spin again. What if she's changed? What if she doesn't want anything to do with him anymore? Would she break up with him because it's not smart to get into a relationship during recovery? Would she allow him to help her? And most of all, would he be able to help her?  
  
Still, he remained tall and strong as he walked through the doors. It was empty inside. Somehow in his own innocence he had expected a big farewell party in which he'd have to sign a Good Luck card and then they'd eat chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream and a banner would be hanging from the ceiling. There was nothing. Only a receptionist who looked as if she hadn't gotten off that chair since he had last saw her. Playing nervously with his fingers, he approached her and tapped on the counter unnecessarily; a small smile appeared on his face.   
  
"Lockhart?" she asked warmly.   
  
"Yes," Luka said, and cleared his throat. "Yes," he repeated more confidently.   
  
"She'll be out in a minute, you can wait over there," she said and pointed to a small couch with her green pen.   
  
Luka smiled once more reluctantly, and hesitantly put his hands on the back pockets of his jeans as he walked over, analyzing the fabric with which the couch was made, thinking about so many questions, either of them could be answered.   
  
---------------------  
  
"Don't forget to call me if you need anything, or if you just want to talk," Renee said as Abby gathered all her things.   
  
"Can I call collect?" Abby joked.   
  
Renee chuckled lightly and dropped her head, "I'm being serious."  
  
"I know," Abby nodded, looking at her sponsor and holding on to the handles of a bag which was resting on the bed.   
  
"And, you can come visit if you like, we love having former patients come and talk to others," Renee added hopefully.  
  
Abby smiled, "I don't know if giving a lecture is one of my priorities now."  
  
"Just something to think about," Renee said casually.   
  
Abby's smile remained on her face, and as she looked down at the floor, she toed one of the tiles, feeling weary and completely submerged in a sea of vulnerability. "Um, thank you," she muttered and looked up. "For everything. I know I didn't make things easy."  
  
Renee nodded and stroked Abby's arm, "You're getting out of here, you must have done something right."  
  
Abby nodded also, looking everywhere but at Renee. "I guess this is good bye then?"  
  
"Maybe a see you later," Renee said.   
  
Abby finally looked at her, and without a care of being corny or embarrassed, she leaned over and gave her new friend a hug.   
  
Renee chuckled as she massaged Abby's back. "Listen, stay sober, ok? I don't wanna have to see your ugly face around here again."  
  
Abby laughed, feeling a lump forming on her throat. "I'll try."  
  
"You'll try? This isn't the Special Olympics," Renee said as she pulled away.   
  
"I will," Abby said, the words coming out as a bitter liquid because it was a promise she didn't know if she could keep. She picked up her bag and both walked out of the room.   
  
"Go to meetings," Renee said.   
  
"Ask for help," Abby added.   
  
"And stay sober."  
  
"Renee?" a male voice came form behind and both women turn around to come face to face with Ben, who looked as if someone had died. "Um, Morgan needs some help with Christian, he's not looking well."  
  
Renee let out a little groan and turned to Abby, "Don't be a stranger."  
  
Abby smiled, "Thanks, Renee." She watched her go, holding her bag with both her hands as it hung just below her feet. She looked from the distant figure of Renee to Ben, who was looking at her bag. She suddenly didn't know what to say, not knowing how to say good bye and not knowing how to start a conversation either. She curled her mouth when Ben saved her the trouble.   
  
"Going home, huh?" he said lamely.   
  
"Yeah," Abby said on a little high note, mostly glad he was the one to break the silence.   
  
"Yeah, I'll get there," Ben said a little sadly.   
  
"I'm sorry, Ben," Abby said, knowing it was bothering him more than he let on, which seemed to be a lot. "But, um, I'm sure you'll be out soon," she said in a more positive note. "I mean, you're looking better."  
  
Ben let out an amusing sigh, mostly at her inability to lie convincingly about something so important. But at the last minute he decided to change the mood, at least put an effort. "Hey," he said with a couple of steps, "When I get out I'll track you down and you can leave that boyfriend of yours for me."  
  
Abby chuckled, "Deal."  
  
Ben smiled and with a couple more steps, gave Abby a strong hug, trying to protect her, but also himself, from his misfortune. "Call me every once in a while, ok?"  
  
Abby nodded against his shoulder, "Ok."  
  
"Maybe we can go to a few meetings together," Ben added.   
  
"Ok," Abby repeated. They both pulled back at the same time and she smiled up at him. "Go see them, Ben. I'm sure they miss you."  
  
Ben nodded unconvincingly.  
  
"I'm serious. You don't know how much you love your father until you're taken away from him," she said, looking up at him.   
  
"We'll see," Ben said, nodding. "Luck, Abby."  
  
"Good luck," Abby added, and saw him turn around and leave. The smile on her face vanished and it was replaced by a small tremble of the lips, but even more trembling was every single organ inside of her.   
  
She had to stand there for a couple of minutes to make sure she still had her balance, and after making sure she wouldn't go straight to the floor, she turned around.   
  
----------------------  
  
There were brown stains on the ceiling. He stared at them as they became different figures, as if they were clouds. There was a mushroom, a tree, a bottle... he closed his eyes tight and shook his head. The effects of lack of sleep were definitely strengthened his fright. The silence was still eating him alive. It was uncomfortable, and so dense he could almost see it.   
  
He shook his head again, trying to remind himself that he had gone through worse things and he had survived. This was just a little bump on the road and he held on to the idea that everything would be ok, that in the end what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That bump was beginning to grow into a hill.   
  
With a sigh, he stood up, and began to pace around the waiting area. Two weeks. He hadn't seen her in two weeks and he had only talked to her on the phone twice since she came in. He had no idea what had been going on the last few days because he hadn't gotten calls, or news, or a letter. She could be recovered or they could be sending her off because she was a lost case. He didn't know.  
  
He could still remember how low his heart sank when he got that phone call. "She's ready to go home." The words spun around his mind and for almost three nights he hadn't been able to sleep. All that advice, all that sharing, all those cliched phrases, they were all useless at the moment.   
  
"Just be supportive. Be patient. Don't push her. Take it one step at a time. She's still recovering. She's still a drunk. It can happen again."  
  
Good God. He was probably over reacting now, but he still didn't know what to do. Even before she relapsed, he had found it that it was almost impossible to 'be there' for Abby. She built this wall around herself and after months and months of good and bad experiences, he knew she didn't trust him completely. That made his stomach spin. It was something he couldn't accept, yet the reality of it slapped him in the face every day. Abby laughed, Abby cried, Abby cringed, and Abby sang, but Abby was a cipher. Abby crawled inside her shell like a turtle every time someone, anyone, tried to touch her.  
  
But he knew why. All that clinical work, that psych rotation, all that literature... he knew well. She didn't. There were a lot of things he knew and she didn't. He knew she was an angel, even though she herself believed to be a rotten apple. He knew she was funny, even when she herself believed to be sarcastic. He knew she was capable of loving, even when she herself believed to be emotionally barren. He knew she made him feel in heaven, when she herself believed she could never be loved.   
  
Those were truths he tried to held on for the moment. Abby was wrong, he was right. He was willing to prove it to her and he couldn't wait for her to realize it.   
  
As he came to a stop to begin counting the small green tiles on the floor, he heard steps. His brain ordered his head to look up, but he could only close his eyes, and take a deep breath. The steps became louder, and when he finally looked up, the first thing he saw was a brown bag.   
  
Suddenly she was standing there, wearing her usual dark clothes. He blinked a few times, making sure it wasn't a mirage, but it was all too real. She smiled at him, but to Luka it seemed more like a sigh of relief.   
  
He couldn't move.   
  
Abby finally looked down and then walked over to the receptionist.   
  
"Checking in?" Marci smiled.   
  
"Yeah, very funny," Abby said as she grabbed the papers from Marci's hands.   
  
"Just sign at the bottom of every page," Marci said.   
  
Abby browsed through the pages, feeling Luka's eyes burning holes on her back. She wasn't even sure she was signing her name or someone else's, but she didn't even check before she gave the papers back to Marci.   
  
"Ok, honey, that's all." Marci looked up at Abby, with that smile still on her face. "Good luck, sweetie."  
  
"Thanks, Marci," Abby said as she picked up her bag. The phone rang and Marci immediately picked it up, going on about her business as if nothing had happened.   
  
Abby looked at her for a moment, trying to stall, and then turned around. Luka was still standing in the same place, with his hands on the back pockets of his jeans. She could barely recognize the feature of his face. He was trying to smile, but there were too many emotions running through his eyes. It scared her. She had never been a glass-is-half-full person.  
  
She walked over, trying to think of something to say, but not being able to come up with something good enough to impress him, or at least bring him back to life. She found herself putting her bag on the floor as she finally reached him. She looked up at him, and finally came to the conclusion that he wasn't numbed when he put his arms around her. She leaned in completely and hugged him back, the smell of his cologne bringing back memories and making it seem as if the last 30 days had been a mistake, a real nightmare, the catalyst that would make this chemistry lab explode.   
  
Luka rested his head on top of hers, and couldn't stop his fingers from trembling. So he hugged her even tighter. He let out a sigh, but didn't say anything. That silence was still circling around them like morning fog.   
  
From far, very far, he could almost hear the battle cry.  
  
To be continued...  
  
  



	13. 24 Steps: Part 13

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. 

Author's notes: Thought I had forgotten about this story, didn't you? I'm a little rusty, so I hope it all came out right. That'll teach me to write so many things at the same time. 

"24 Steps: Part 13" by Carolina

The silence reminded her of that part in the Sound of Music when they whole family is hiding behind those pillars at the convent and the guards are looking for them. It got particularly excruciating when they took out those flash lights and there was a long silence as they pointed their lights to the pillars, and then a sense of relief comes over you when they go away.

Now that was a family she wanted to be a part of. With a mom who would sing all day and be in the same mood all the time. Looking now she put it aside. It didn't exist. It was a world so perfect that it was impossible to live in. There is no such place where Mi is a name you call yourself and Re is a drop of golden sun. 

She didn't know why she thought of that. The moment was nothing like almost being caught, or hiding when the enemy was right at your feet, but the way their shoes' sounds echoed around the hallway of her apartment building reminded her of that scene, of a movie she hadn't seen in years. Luka was in front of her, carrying her suitcase, and she followed behind, looking around as if she was indeed a prisoner. 

"Did they paint the hallways?" she asked suddenly, her voice joining on the sound of their steps, an orchestra of trepidation. 

"No, no," Luka said casually, digging into his pockets for the keys.

Abby was unconvinced, and to her it seemed like he was taking forever to open the door. Weird, a couple of weeks before she was screaming and crying to come back home, and now that she had, she couldn't quite figure out what all the fuss was about. For a month she had been woken up by the same bell, at the same hour, ate at 8, 12, and 8 again, snacked at 4, and only had to worry about getting up and getting dressed. To a lot of people, a month is only 30 days; to her it was a reverie, a ship who had been lost at sea for years and was finally found. 

Finally, after all the jiggling, the door unlocked and Luka let her in first. The first thing she was glad about was that there was no surprise party. Good. The last thing she needed was people popping out from behind her furniture with a Welcome Back banner. Luka turned on the lights; Abby noticed the roses in a vase she didn't recognized on the kitchen table. She stood there for a moment not knowing what to do as Luka walked over to her bedroom and began to put her things away.

She couldn't help but notice the time. She had been slave of a routine to which she no longer belonged. At this exact moment Marissa would start talking about her boyfriends as they ate chocolates like rabid women, until Ben rushed through the doors of the TV room to change the channel to Survivor. But that wasn't happening right now, and it was too quiet. 

So she went over and turned on the television. 

"Do you want something to eat?" Luka asked as he walked into the room again. "Maybe we can go out, or I can make something here."

It took Abby a moment to hear that and she looked up at him once she did. "I don't know, I'm kinda tired."

Luka put his hands on his hips and nodded. Be supportive; be patient; be there; be all that you can be. 

"Maybe order a pizza?" Abby finally said while she played with her sleeves, watching him smile. 

He walked into the kitchen to get the number from the fridge and she followed him. As he picked up the phone to make the call, Abby jumped into the counter and once more found herself analyzing him closely. This male human being never ceased to intrigue her. They had been together for more than 6 months, spending nearly every night together, but to Abby, Luka remained a mystery. She knew everything about him, his past and his present, but somehow there were things about Luka she couldn't understand. His quirks, his mannerisms, his... perfection. Where she came from, men could not be trusted. They either leave or cheat on you. When they are there, they don't care. 

When Luka was going through his depression and it was as if Abby didn't exist, she never stopped to think it was something odd. In reality, it wasn't. To Abby, Luka was as normal as they came, and she knew the relationship was going no where. In reality, no relationship achieves happiness. She knew sooner or later he'd either leave or cheat on her, and she'd move on. When that didn't happen, when the roles reversed and he began to offer comfort, when she woke up every morning and he was still there, when he didn't cheat on her, that's when things began to seem odd and he wasn't a man anymore. She couldn't trust his intentions. He was clearly something inhuman. 

Luka put the phone down and looked at her with a small smile on his face. "30 minutes."

Abby nodded and looked around her kitchen, noticing the new silver wear and plates through the crystal shields of her cupboards. "You cleaned?" she asked in amazement. 

Luka approached her, resting his hands on her thighs. "I had to. The crazy woman who used to live here went on a spree and broke all her plates," he joked as he got closer. 

Abby was surprised to find herself chuckling at that and rested her forehead on his. 

"I missed you," Luka whispered. 

Abby curled her mouth and closed her eyes, and as if in slow motion, felt Luka's lips on hers. The moment, instead of exciting, made her want to cry. When she was little, her father used to take her and her brother out on camping trips. Later, Abby found out that the reason why they were scheduled so spontaneously was because those were days in which Maggie was locked out in a psych ward. Anyway, her father loved to teach her and Eric about the wildlife. Of course Abby loved watching the birds, but the one thing which intrigued her the most, the one thing she'd stare at for hours, was the Pigweed. The Pigweed is a beautiful plant, whose leaves had two different shapes, ragged and crisp, yet besides its beauty, it is poisonous. Actually, only the stem is, the rest is even edible. But animals mistook the poisonous part, the stem, for the good parts and they'd die after consumption. 

As Luka continued to kiss her, she realized why as a little girl she was so intrigued by the Pigweed so much... she was one. There were two sides of her, the crisp side, and the ragged one, and after that attracted people to her, inevitably they'd stumble upon her venom. It had happen to almost everyone she had come in contact with, and it would happen to Luka. The difference now was that something inside of her alarmed her of this. For the first time she realized why people turned away, because she was nothing but a poisonous, wild, two-faced plant. 

Still, she responded to him. Although she knew that Luka was walking into quicksand, a part of her needed him to. She had missed him. Not feeling him move at night was something she wasn't used to and it produced many sleepless nights. So as it turned out, she had to go double cold turkey. 

Luka's hands began to explore her back and with her own she unhooked two of his buttons and reached inside his shirt. Even thought she had only been gone for 30 days, she and Luka hadn't had sex way before that, and the sudden raise in temperature on the room made it obvious where this was headed, which was fine with her, because as it turns out, men are not the only ones who go crazy without sex. 

The exact moment when he picked her off the counter, the doorbell rang. 

"Dammit," Luka muttered against her neck, his muscles tense. 

Abby chuckled and helped herself out of his arms to walk into the living room as Luka stayed behind, trying to cool off. It was so easy for women. 

Abby cleared her throat and cleaned the corner of her lips, also making sure all her buttons where in place, before she opened the door to reveal Carter, with a smile on his face and a bunch of balloons on his hand. 

"Welcome back," he grinned and stepped in to give her a hug before she could react. 

"Hey," Abby chuckled as Carter's body nearly devoured hers. "Come in."

Carter handed her the balloons and stepped into the apartment, and at the same time a distraught Luka walked out of the kitchen, nodded at Carter, and sat on the couch in front of the television, which was still on. 

Carter sensed something in the air, something tense. Were they fighting? Or talking about something serious? The way Luka was staring at Abby's ass as she tied the balloons to a chair gave him the answer. Oh, **that **kind of tension. 

So he cleared his throat and sat next to Luka. "So when did you get in?" he asked, trying to ease the reunion. 

"Couple of minutes ago," Abby said from the kitchen. "You certainly have good timing."

Luka leaned closer to Carter and whispered sarcastically, "Yeah, good timing, Carter."

"Sorry," Carter whispered back. 

Abby came back from the kitchen with three cans of sodas on her hands in time to see Luka and Carter finish their whispering and look up at her, grinning like a couple of idiots. 

"What's going on?" she asked suspiciously and the two men looked at each other casually. 

"Nothing," they both said at the same time. 

Abby rolled her eyes. "Ok, let's get one thing straight. I don't want any one of you, or anyone else for that matter, whispering, or talking, or looking at me as if I had a goiter, ok? Yes, I went to rehab. Yes, I'm an alcoholic. Let's just move on, alright? So there's going to be no whispering or talking behind my back, is that clear?"

Luka and Carter both stared at her with blank expressions on their faces, sitting next to each other, looking like two children being scolded. 

It was such a Kodak moment that Abby's serious expression fell and she began to laugh. 

Luka and Carter looked at each other in confusion. "What the hell did they do to her?" Carter joked, and that made Luka go into chuckles also. 

"We weren't talking about you, Abby," Luka said.

"Yeah, let it go," Carter said as he reached for his soda and opened it up, taking a gulp. 

Abby sat down across from them and opened hers as well. "Well, whatever it was, just, no whispering, ok?" she added seriously. 

"Fine," Luka said as he leaned back, feeling more relaxed than he had felt in a long time. He was now glad Carter had stopped by, because it had eased the tension that was present earlier. As much as he wanted to rip Abby's shirt off and make love to her, he also knew that it would have to wait. Unlike what Carter had said, he didn't want to let it go. He wanted to talk to Abby, ask her what happened. But most of all, he wanted to dig in for a reason. He truly believed that if Abby told him why she relapsed, they could work as a team and prevent it from happening again. It would also made it easier for Abby to go to him when she needed help, instead to a bottle of rum. 

He blinked back to resurface in a middle of a conversation between Carter and Abby. 

"... I don't know," Carter sighed heavily. 

"What don't you know?" Abby asked, cleaning the top of her can. 

"Three dates in one month," Carter said. 

Abby looked from Luka to Carter, "So?"

"So, don't you think that's a little slow, and... weird," Carter said as he fidgeted with his fingers. 

"Not really," Abby shrugged her shoulders. 

"I thought you were going out last week," Luka joined in. 

Carter shook his head. "She had to work late." He thought for a moment then added, "I mean, I like her, I like her a lot, it's just that..."

"What?" Abby asked almost in frustration. 

Carter lingered. "I don't know, I wished I could see her more often so that I know where this is going, and I can be more certain."

"So call her up, make a lunch date," Abby said.

"It's not that easy, Abby," Luka added. He knew why Carter was so reluctant to see Georgia, and he also knew that John had backed off from a couple of dates also. They were dancing, a tango Luka knew about all too well. And it all came down to his addiction, and his attack. Luka certainly understood as well. Although he wasn't an addict or an alcoholic, the same question when he met a new woman inevitably came, 'Are you married?' Although the answer to that one is a simple no, it always came before more detailed questions, and he'd end up lying about his whole life and about how he had never been married. It's hard to find acceptance when there's still so much the average person didn't know. 

There was a knock on the door and Luka immediately stood up, so did Carter.

"Carter, stay for pizza," Abby said as she walked into the kitchen to get some plates. 

"No, I really shouldn't," Carter sighed. 

"It's ok," Luka said with a small smile as he opened up the door. An odd looking kid stood there, with the box of pizza on his hand. 

"Half cheese, half pepperoni?" he asked. 

Luka took the box away and gave the kid the money along with a good tip and closed the door. 

"So how's everyone at the hospital?" Abby asked as she put a slice of pizza on her plate and walked back into the living room. 

"You know, the usual," Carter said. 

"Nothing happened while I was gone?" Abby asked. 

"You were only gone for a month," Carter said as he sat down with three slices. 

"Yeah," Abby said vaguely. She thought how weird it was that things weren't awkward. She knew Carter's presence was making things better, but even Carter was talking as if nothing had happened. She was certain she'd come back and they'd follow her around with a diaper bag over their shoulders. But Carter's mind was stolen by thoughts of Georgia and Luka was keeping his distance, mentally. 

She cleared her throat and took a bite of her slice. "Is Weaver working tonight? I wanna go back to work."

Both Luka and Carter looked up at her. "Are you sure?" Carter asked. 

"Yeah," Abby said simply. 

"I don't think you should, Abby," Luka said. 

"Why not?" Abby asked. 

"Well, for once Mark and Kerry might not want you back for a while. And even if they did, I don't think you should," Carter said, knowing well the routine by now. 

"I'm a nurse," Abby said simply. 

Luka looked at Carter, suddenly wishing the other man wasn't there, because this was something he wanted to talk to Abby alone. So he decided to shut up and wait. He'd certainly be poking this discussion out of Abby later so he could say what was on his mind. 

"First of all, you should find a support group," Carter said. 

"I already have that," Abby said. 

"And go to..."

"Meetings, get a sponsor, ask for help," Abby cut him off. "I've been through this, Carter," she said a little snippy. 

"Right, so take it slowly," Luka added, not wanting to add too much. 

Abby shook her head, knowing it was an argument she would not win. She watched as Luka went back into the kitchen and came back with another slice of pizza, which he put on her plate. "No, I'm done," she protested. 

"You should try to gain some of that weight back," Luka said as he sat back down. 

"Are you kidding? This is the best part of it all," Abby said, feeling her own ribs. 

Carter smiled, "Don't pull an Ally McBeal on us."

"Ha, ha," Abby said and picked up all the plates. After putting them in the sink, she leaned against the counter, watching as Luka and Carter talked over the sounds of the television. Why were they talking? Weren't they supposed to be hitting each other? When Luka had tried to detox her, she could hear them talking outside her door. She could hear Carter almost yelling at Luka and Luka standing still. Her mind had been a loud radio back then, going almost on static. But she heard what they had said, as if she was a patient they were fighting over. She hated feeling like that. She hated that Carter wanted to handle it, as if she was a ragged doll. She hated that Luka treated her like a baby, when she knew exactly how to take care of herself. 

There they were now, bonding. A black cloud hovered over her head. She wanted to go back to rehab. God knows it was the weirdest feeling in the world, but she could not help it. At least there she wouldn't have to deal with her own life. Other people lived for her, fed her and put her together. She didn't have to worry or even think about work, Carter, or even Luka. All she had to do was miss them, and that was what she had done. But now she was back into the real world again, and it scared her to death. 

"Are you ok?" Luka asked as he walked into the kitchen with his plate, watching as she stared off into space.

Abby looked up at him with a questioning look on her face, until she heard his question as it reached her ears minutes after it was spoken. "Yeah," she said with a smile and walked back into the living room, sitting down in front of Carter. 

Instantly, he looked at his watch and stood up. "Well, I really have to go now."

"You don't want ice cream?" Luka asked, even though he wasn't planning on eating any himself. He wanted Carter to stay over a little more so he could practice his speech over his mind. He knew as soon as Carter left, he would have to keep the morale up. They don't teach you that on support groups. 

"Yeah, I have to go spend some time with my grandma," Carter sighed. 

Luka shook his hand, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Carter nodded, "Yep."

Abby pointed to the door, signaling she was walking him out and followed him closely. She rested her chin on the door as Carter stood on the hallway. "Are you sure you're ok?" he asked. 

"Yeah," Abby said casually.

Carter raised one of his eyebrows. He knew it was all baby steps now. "Hey, I'll call you later, ok? We can go to a meeting together."

Abby smiled, "We'll see if dad let's me stay past my curfew," she said sarcastically.

Carter turned serious, "Listen to him, Abby. He's only trying to take care of you. He's doing everything right this time."

Abby shook her head in amazement and confusion, and looked inside the apartment to make sure Luka was not near. When she saw him cleaning up she closed the door and stepped into the hallway with Carter. "Ok, what the hell is going on?" she asked. 

Carter wrinkled his forehead. "What?"

"A month ago you two couldn't stand being around each other and now all of a sudden you're the ambiguously gay duo?" she whispered even though the door was closed. 

"What?" Carter repeated.

"It's not that easy, Abby. Listen to him, Abby. Carter's right, Abby. Hey Carter, stay for pizza, wanna have a threesome while we're at it?" she mocked both men. 

Carter didn't know what to say, but actually chuckled. "Um, we've been talking," he offered as an explanation. 

"Talking," Abby repeated. 

"Yeah. You were gone, and I guess we just started talking," Carter tried to explain. 

Abby stared into space for a while and then looked up at him, "So you're friends now?"

Carter thought for a moment, "I guess so."

Abby looked away and muttered. "Unbelievable."

"Anyway," Carter continued. "I think you should still at least take a couple of days off, trust me, as soon as you go back to the ER you'll want to run away."

"Thanks, Gary," Abby said sarcastically and opened the door. "Thanks for coming."

"See you later," Carter smiled and walked away.

Abby walked back into the apartment to find Luka standing there, looking at her. "What?" she asked. 

Luka gave her a knowing look and walked into the kitchen again. "Well, I guess it goes both ways too, no whispering behind **my** back also."

"Sorry," Abby said, following him. "I didn't know you and Carter were in such friendly terms."

Luka shrugged his shoulders as he put the rest of the pizza away. "I guess we've been talking."

"So I've heard," Abby said, leaning against the counter again. As soon as Luka put the food away, there was nothing else for him to do, so the tension inevitably came back. But Abby snapped back, "Um, I'm gonna call Weaver."

Luka immediately reacted, seizing his opportunity. He pinned the phone to its stand before she could reach it. "Abby," he started, very aware that his speech wasn't ready. "Don't... just yet," he said and took the phone away. 

"Why?" Abby asked. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, not quite looking at her. "I don't... think you should go back to work just yet."

Abby smiled, "Luka, I'm fine."

"You keep saying that," he said. "But I don't know if that's true."

"You don't trust me?" Abby asked. 

"It's not that I don't trust you, Abby. It's just that... you've been through a lot," he said, trying to get her to understand. 

Abby shook her head, "Luka..."

"Just," he interrupted her. "Just take a couple of days off, it won't kill you."

Abby hesitated for a moment, and looked up at him, trying to say something, before Luka cut her off again.

"Abby you were drinking at work," he said he said very seriously, almost whispering. "You endangered patients. They're not going to let you go back just like that."

Abby felt as if she had just been slapped by that. Did Weaver ever found out she had drank at work? Had Luka told her? He was the only one who knew. 

"Did you..."

"I didn't tell her," Luka said, reading her memory. "But it doesn't take a scientist to realize why you had been so spaced out and why your work had been unusual," he tried to put it gently, not wanting to anger her. "Some patients complained, Abby, and Weaver is not stupid."

Abby let out a sigh, knowing he was right. She knew that if Kerry was aware, her job was in danger. She could be put on probation, or even lose her job. But still, something on the back of her neck wouldn't let her go. She didn't want to just sit around doing nothing. If she did, then soon everyone would start stopping by and asking if she was ok. She wasn't a patient, she fell down but now she was up again and ready to walk. She needed to walk. 

She looked up at Luka again. "So we'll just set a meeting, ok? I just wanna talk to her about when I'll be able to go back."

Luka stared at her for a moment, not knowing what to do. He knew that even if Abby called Kerry, they'd have to have a meeting first. In order for Abby to go back, she'd have to go through the same process Carter went through. That could take days if not weeks. He trusted Kerry, and he knew Abby was getting nowhere with this. So in defeat, he gave her the phone and walked away, he didn't want to hear her rejection. 

~*~

As he changed and laid in bed with a book, he could hear Abby talking to Kerry from the kitchen. The conversation was taking longer than he thought it would, so he figured she was going no where with it. But soon after that Abby stopped talking, and she appeared through the door of the bedroom. 

"So?" he asked, taking his glasses off. 

"So, she wants to meet with me," Abby said as she began to take her clothes off, looking for her pajamas. 

"When?" Luka asked. 

"Tomorrow," Abby said casually.

"Tomorrow?" Luka repeated incredulously. 

"Yeah," Abby said as she looked at him. 

Luka closed his book and put it on the night table. This was going too fast. He thought Abby would be back and be too emotional and he'd put her together. Then it would take her a while to start living again and everything would have to be rebuilt slowly. But now Abby was meeting with Weaver a day after she had come back. He knew she was pretending everything was ok. There was no way a real human being go be acting so naturally. Before she went to rehab, she was so weak both emotionally and physically that he almost couldn't recognize her anymore. 

He couldn't recognize her now either. As she got in bed next to him he looked down at her. "Are you sure you're ok, Abby?" he asked, trying to get her to tell him why she was pretending to be fine. 

"Yeah," she said. 

"I don't think it's smart to go back to work so fast," Luka said. 

Abby smiled, "Luka, it's ok. I can handle it, trust me."

Luka let out a sigh and turned off the lamp. In the darkness, he felt Abby cuddle up next to him, resting her head on his right breast. He put his arms around her, trying to understand what was happening. While he was overjoyed that Abby was better now, he couldn't help but feeling her trembling a little against him. It wasn't a shaking, something you could see or recognize easily. But he could feel it. Her muscles were tense, and her breathing shallow. Was she still going through withdrawals? Obviously. Could she handle the ER like this? No. He knew it, and Abby knew it. 

"I missed you," she whispered against him and he kissed her head. 

This was wrong, all wrong, and this time he couldn't get her on a car to take her to Denial Rehab. This time he'd have to sit back and see her get hurt. 

~*~

Before the morning even came, Abby laid wide awake in bed. She stared at the ceiling as Luka slept next to her, his arm around her waist. The hours went by and she couldn't sleep. She looked at Luka, and then around her room. The sun was beginning to come up and she slowly put his arm away to get out of bed. Going into the kitchen, she poured herself some juice and at the same time felt something knock against her door. 

Perfect, the newspaper. She opened her door to find the paper on the floor, and at the same time her old neighbor walked out to get hers. 

"Abby!" she sort of squealed in her old lady voice. 

"Morning, Mrs. Bennett," Abby said with a smile. 

"Where have you been?" the old lady asked. 

"Well..."

"Things around here have been ok. I've been having some pains on my hips but the doctors tell me it's all in my head. Imagine a person making pain up, it's ridiculous. They gave me these pills but they still don't work and my insurance company doesn't want me going into more hospitals," she rambled on. 

Abby just nodded as the old lady talked, looking around. When Mrs. Bennett stopped, Abby asked. "Mrs. Bennett? Did they paint the hallway?"

"Oh, no," the old lady said. "You know, that boyfriend of yours is nothing but trouble. He scared my Howard with his big loud boots, and now he won't come out unless I take him."

Abby nodded, trying to repress a smile, "I'm sorry about that, I-I'll talk to him." In a way she was pleased. Howard the cat would come out every morning and scratch Abby's newspaper, and of course Abby couldn't say anything to Mrs. Bennett, because the cat was almost royalty. 

"Well, um," Abby said. "I should go make some breakfast."

"Take care, honey, and come by later for some tea," Mrs. Bennett said. 

"I will," Abby said and closed the door. "On your wake," she mumbled when Mrs. Bennett couldn't hear her anymore. She sat on the table and opened up her newspaper, drinking her juice. At the same time, a sleepy Luka, with his hair standing on ends, came out of the room. Without saying a word he walked over, bent down and kissed her, lingering there for a while. 

Abby looked at the clock, "Go back to bed, I'll wake you later."

"Mmm," Luka mumbled, his eyes closing. "Did you get some sleep?"

"Yeah," Abby lied and watched as he began to make some coffee. 

"What time is your meeting?" he asked. 

"I'll just go to work with you," Abby said and began to read the newspaper again. 

Luka had given up on trying to convince her to take it slow. Obviously she wasn't listening to him, and he knew she was just banging her head against the wall over and over again. He hated saying 'I told you so'. He knew he would have to say it now too. 

He sat on the table in front of her as she read the newspaper, and he waited for the coffee to brew. "Did they give you something?" he asked. 

Abby looked up from the newspaper. "What?"

"Antibuse?" Luka asked. 

Abby took a deep breath. "Yeah. I still don't know if Weaver wants me to take it every day."

"Probably," Luka said as he stood up and poured two cups of coffee. He watched as she read the newspaper, feeling uncomfortable. Oh Patience, where art thou.

~*~

"Hey, Abby," Dave exclaimed as he saw Luka and Abby walk into the ER.

"Hey, Dave," Abby smiled. 

"Did you miss me?" Dave asked with a wink. 

Abby nodded. "You bet."

"Did you bring me something?" Dave asked in a whisper. 

"No, Dave. They were out of the 'My friend went to rehab and all I got was this lousy t-shirt' shirts," she joked, Dave nodded and Luka chuckled. 

"Abby," Kerry walked their way, holding on to some charts. "Welcome back."

"Thank you," Abby smiled. 

"You ready?" she said and motioned to the lounge.

"Yeah," Abby nodded nervously. 

"Malucci make yourself useful," Kerry scolded him and walked into the lounge. 

"Malucci, make yourself useful," Dave mocked her and walked away.

Abby looked up at Luka apprehensively. 

"Good luck," he raised his eyebrows, gave her a kiss, and walked away. 

Abby knew Luka wasn't ok with her returning to work so fast, but she needed to work. If she didn't, she'd crumble down to pieces, and then everyone would see just what a mess she was. No, this was better. 

She walked into the lounge to see Mark and Kerry, waiting for her. She smiled uneasily. 

"Sit down," Kerry offered her the other side of the table. 

"How's everything going?" Mark asked with a little disinterest. 

"Good," Abby said as she crossed her legs. 

Kerry handed Abby some papers for her to read, the moment reminding her a lot like the time when Carter came back from rehab. Abby took her time, reading the sentences quickly and then put them down. 

"That's no problem," she said.

"Just sign at the bottom," Mark said, reading something else. 

"When will I be able to come back to work?" Abby asked. 

"You will have to take your Antibuse every day and periodically we will do some urine tests to make sure you're not drinking again," Kerry added. 

"I understand," Abby said. 

"Once we know everything is under control, then you'll be able to resume your job as a nurse," Kerry said. 

Abby smiled, "I, I think I'm ready to return, Dr. Weaver. I've been through this before, it gets easy," she chuckled nervously. 

Mark looked up, "You think you can handle the ER?"

Abby nodded. 

Kerry looked at Mark, and then at Abby. "Abby, I don't want to doubt you, but as much as we need a nurse right now..."

"Dr. Weaver, I-I, I'm ready, honestly," Abby said seriously. For a moment she was about to show them her steady pulse, but remembered she was still shaking a little, so her hands remained under the table.

Kerry looked at Mark again, not sure of what to do. After a long silence, she stood up, and Abby watched as her boss walked out the door. Once Kerry was out, she spotted who she was looking for. 

"Luka, can you come here for a second?" she called out. 

Luka looked at her in ignorance for a moment, scared something bad had happened in there, and put his chart down. 

As soon as he walked into the lounge, he froze. There was Abby, Mark, and Kerry, sitting by the table, obviously having their meeting. He chose to stand because he was sure his ligaments were going to fail him. Why did they want to talk to him? Yes, he was an attending, and part of the decision making process as much as Mark or Kerry. But because of his romantic entanglement with Abby, Kerry had made it clear that he would remain out of this predicament. In fact, she had ordered him to. He began to feel angry. 

"Luka, we were talking with Abby about the possibility of her returning to work sooner than we'd expected. While we don't particularly feel it is a smart move, because of her duties as a nurse and because she's not necessarily treats patients, we feel that maybe it could be possible for her to come back," Kerry said, playing with a piece of paper. 

Luka looked at her in surprise, and watch the pleased expression on Abby's face. Where the hell did that came from? How was Abby able to convince Weaver that she was ready to come back to work after only one day of being back? Has the world come to an end? Or was this a dream. 

"So," Mark began. "Abby claims that she is ready, both emotionally and physically."

Uh oh. Luka knew exactly where this was going. He wanted to reach for that door and disappear. But he remained still. 

Kerry looked up at him, "Luka, do you think Abby is ready to resume her duties as a nurse in the ER?"

Luka looked from Kerry, to Mark, to Abby, who was looking at him, waiting for his answer. She wasn't smiling, or encouraging to say anything, or even moving. She was making painful eye contact, waiting for him to say something. He looked at Kerry again, "I don't see how my opinion..."

"Have you been with her since she came back?" Mark asked. 

"Why should I answer that question?" Luka asked. "And why was I called here, Kerry, I thought you wanted me out of this."

"I do," Kerry said. "But because we need a different point of view we thought it was necessary to get yours. Both as an attending and as Abby's boyfriend you'd have the best insight into this situation," she said calmly. 

Luka knew she was right, but still. They were putting him into a tight spot and he knew nothing good would come out of this. Everyone was looking at him with weary eyes and he suddenly felt tiny. 

"So, do you think she is ready to handle the ER?" Mark asked again. 

Luka looked at Abby, and their eyes interlocked without being able to look any other way. After what seemed the longest time, he finally looked down and then away. 

"No," he muttered and immediately felt the Armageddon. 

Abby closed her eyes and looked down, and Kerry immediately at her. "Sorry, Abby, rules are rules. The decision was unanimous. We will require 90 meetings in 90 days and we will be contacting you to let you know when you'll be able to come back," she said as she and Mark stood up, gathering their things. She limped past Luka and looked up at him. "Thank you, Luka, that'll be all."

Luka keep looking down, as did Abby, as both Mark and Kerry walked out of the lounge, leaving them alone. As Luka opened his mouth to say something, Abby stood up, grabbed her purse and stormed out. 

Luka closed his eyes, letting out a sigh and walked after her. "Abby," he called out and caught up with her in the ambulance bay. He had never seen her walk so fast. "Abby, wait."

"How **dare **you!" Abby yelled at him as she turned around. "This is **my **job what the **fuck **gives you the right to get in the way!"

Luka took a deep breath, feeling anger as well, although not as angry as Abby was. "Abby you **know **you're not ready for this."

"I need my job, Luka!" Abby said sternly, not yelling anymore, but just as mad. 

"You need to take it slow!" it was now Luka's turn to yell. 

"It's none of your business!" Abby yelled back. 

"Yes, I think it is," Luka said. "I am an attending, and I am your boyfriend so whether you like it or not, it is my business also, because I'm the one who has to deal with your job here, and I'm the one who has to deal with your stupid mistakes at home!"

As soon as he said that, he felt the side of his face burn. He closed his eyes, feeling the strike over and over even after she had slapped him. As soon as he opened them, he saw Abby walking away from him, almost running. He felt his stomach boil and his nostrils blare and the anger consuming him. At that moment he wanted to punch someone, and he knew exactly who. 

He stormed back into the ER, watching as Mark and Kerry went on about their business as if nothing had happened. He reached the front desk and knocked the chart rack out of the way. "Are you happy now?" he yelled, and the ER immediately went quiet.

"Luka," Kerry said strictly.

"Is that what you wanted? To fuck everything up? Well congratulations!" Luka yelled again. 

Carter walked over hesitantly and put his hand on Luka's shoulder, but Luka immediately pulled away. "Come on, man," Carter tried to calm Luka down.

"I did what I thought was necessary in order to make the best decision," Kerry said calmly, but somehow nervous that Luka would get out of control. 

"Oh yeah, because that's all you do. Fuck people's personal lives, as long as Kerry Weaver's ER is running smoothly the rest of the world can go to hell!" Luka yelled at her. 

"Luka don't make me call security," Mark warned, and at that, Carter immediately grabbed Luka's arm, trying to pull him away from the scene. 

"It was my decision, Luka," Kerry added.

"Fuck you, Kerry!" he yelled at her again and finally let Carter take him into the lounge. As soon as he did, he grabbed the table and knocked it out of the way.

"Hey!" Carter yelled. 

"Bitch," Luka muttered. 

"Sit down, Luka," Carter ordered him, but the man kept pacing up and down. "Do you wanna lose your job?"

Luka wasn't listening. He was, but his mind was racing and his body was out of control. He wanted to, he needed to punch someone. Without even thinking, he went over to punch his own locker, but Carter's arms held him back. He turned around to punch Carter, but the younger doctor dodged him easily. 

"Luka calm down!" Carter yelled again, but Luka seemed out of control, and in his eyes Carter saw a hate he had never seen before. What the hell had happened? With weary eyes he watched as Luka opened up his locker, took his things out, and stormed out of the lounge. For a moment Carter thought he'd go after Kerry again, but he watched as Luka walked out of the ER doors and into the street. 

Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh and sat down, suddenly feeling the fright he hadn't felt before. 

~*~ 

As Luka reached the street, he began to walk, with no destination. People were looking at him in a weird way but he didn't notice. He needed to punch something, he needed to throw things, and he needed to release all this anger before it consumed him inside. It had been a long time since he felt like a mad man, the night he killed that mugger, if he remembered correctly. He was tired of being people's punching bag, of being taken advantage off, of Kerry Weaver and her callous intentions. He could still feel Abby's hand on his face and he was sure it would leave a mark. On moments like these he felt like taking his car and driving away, far away. Fuck Chicago and everyone who lived here.

Be supportive. Be patient. Be there. Bullshit.

To be continued...


	14. 24 Steps: Part 14

Disclaimer: None of them belong to me, unless they have the Carolina seal of approval on their ass.

Author's Notes: Holy crap, I have no idea how many chapters this story is going to have. So please hang in there while I improvise a little. This chapter is from Carter's POV. Don't worry, I'm exploring Luka and Abby's POVs later, so don't bug me about it. This one goes to my fish Maroon, who died on August 25th, and was flushed on August 26th. :(

24 Steps: Part 14

Confusion. The more innapropriate state of mind when your job is to save lives. In a place as fast paced as an emergency room, the last thing you want on your mind is nothingness. Yet as he stood there, the sound of the slammed door still echoing on his mind, he felt nothing but wretching confusion. 

His heart still raced after his attempt to control Luka's outburst. The table laid upside down on the floor and plastic cups of coffee were scattered everywhere. He stood there still, scared this was the eye of the storm and the winds would return to knock him over again. He knew Luka would not be coming back and yet, he stood still. A couple of minutes passed before the door opened. 

Dave looked at Carter with the same ignorance, looking around the mess that was the lounge. "What the hell was that?" Dave finally asked. 

It was the push Carter needed to finally move, and with Dave's help, pick up the table to put it back in place. "I don't know," Carter answered truthfully. 

"Oh, man, I thought he was gonna kill Weaver," Dave said with a huge grin.

Still dumbfounded, Carter just nodded slightly. 

"I mean, if she bitches me out one more time, I'm calling Kovac," Dave continued, with a couple of chuckles.

Carter didn't say anything, and began to pick up the plastic cups from the floor.

"Oh man, I wished I had a camera. Hey, if we had to put them on a ring, who do you think would win?" Dave asked. "I mean, Weaver has that cane..."

"Dave," Carter finally said.

"Yeah?" Dave asked. 

"Shut up," Carter answered and after putting the cups on the table, walked outside. Everyone was still murmuring and talking, and gossiping about the earlier events. Mark and Kerry were no where to be found. 

"No, I heard Weaver told him he couldn't date Abby because she used to be a med student," Chuny told Amira as she ate some chocolate.

"That doesn't make any sense, she's a nurse now," Amira added.

"I'm just telling you what I heard," Chuny replied.

"Chuny?" Carter asked, looking over a chart. "Gomez in 4 needs a new IV bag."

"I'm on a break," Chuny added, hoovering her box of chocolates.

"Then go to the lounge," Carter added, looking at her. She gave him a look he knew he would pay for later and picked up her box of chocolates, walking away. But he couldn't control the stories that were dispersing throughout the hospital already. He knew somewhere on the fifth floor someone was hearing the story of how Kerry was trying to get Abby to dump Luka so Mark and Abby could go out and then Luka gave Kerry a black eye.

Shaking his head, he put his chart down and signed his name on it, setting it on the rack. A few patients were waiting in chairs and he glanced at the clock on the wall, desperate to leave the hospital and talk to either Abby or Luka. 

"Well, if your friends jumped off a cliff, would you do that too?" Carter asked, peeling his gloves off his hands. 

Danielle smiled, "Yeah, I guess."

"Really," Carter added, absentmindedly writing something on his chart.

"Yeah, I mean, if they jump first they'd cushion the fall, right?" she chuckled to herself. 

Carter looked at her for a moment, and then shook his head. "Just give the ___ a chance to work."

~*~

The exact moment when Abby slammed the door to her apartment, she collapsed on the floor and began to cry. Sitting down, she hugged her knees and began to rock back and forth as her pants became soaked in tears. Something inside of her was tugging her whole body into her stomach and suddenly she couldn't breathe. 

She laid on the couch and picked up the phone, reading the numbers on the paper in her hands through tears. After a couple of rings, someone finally answered. "Renee?" Abby cried. 

"Who's this?" Renee asked, a little worried. 

"Abby," Abby said. 

"Abby, honey, is everything ok?" Renee asked, a little alarmed. 

"No," Abby whimpered. 

"What happened?" Renee asked. "Where are you?"

"At my apartment," Abby said as the tears kept flowing. 

"What happened, Abby?" Renee asked again. 

Abby took a deep breath, shutting her eyes tight. "I can't, I can't," she stammered. 

~*~

"Dave, this is an emergency room, stop procrastinating," Carter said

"Let me teach you something, Carter. Hard work often pays off after time, but laziness always pays off now," Dave said, and raised his eyebrows slightly at the end. 

Carter looked at him, dumbfounded. "What?"

Dave tapped Carter's head with his pencil and grabbed the chart. "Think about that one."

Carter watched him go, and rolled his eyes as he walked inside the front desk. "Randi, have you seen Dr. Weaver?"

"Check the ER," Randi replied behind the magazine she was reading.

"We are..." Carter began to protest but stopped when he realized it was her way of saying 'I don't know'. "How about Mark?" he added. 

"Want me to page them?" Randi asked, not moving. 

"No, no, that's ok," Carter let out a sigh and looked around, his eyes landing on the board. "Why is the board empty when there's a hundred patients waiting in chairs?"

Randi turned around to look at him, "I have this new idea for emergency efficiency," she said, watching as Carter crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue, although by the look on his face she could tell he was not in the mood. That didn't stop her. 

Randi took a deep breath, "Ok, you know how people are always coming in here complaining about something?"

Carter nodded slowly, a monotonous stare on his face.

"I figured: If we stop treating patients, then maybe they'll stop bugging us," Randi said with a bright smile.

Carter kept looking at her, feeling the tension pressing on the side of his head, and the stress boiling the insides of his stomach. He finally looked down, closed his eyes, and pinned the sides of his nose with his fingers. "Except this is a **hospital**, not a department store, and we are being **paid** to listen to people complain!" he snaped at her, looking intense. 

"Gee, relax, it was just a joke," Randi said. 

Carter ran his hands through his hair, looking around. He kept trying to count to ten, but couldn't get past 3. "Page Weaver," he said softly and walked away.

"You needed me, Carter?" Kerry said as if on cue, taking a chart from the pile.

Carter opened his mouth to say something, but didn't know what. The chairs were piling up with patients, but he wanted to know what had happened with Luka, Mark, and Kerry. He knew Kerry would not give him any information, but you can't shoot a guy for trying.

"Uh, there's... there's a lot of patients..."

"I can see that," Kerry said, looking over her glasses. "Thank you for taking over, John."

"Yeah, yeah, no problem," Carter added. "Um, Dr. Weaver, I was just wondering..."

"John," Kerry interrupted, looking up at him. "It's been a long day."

"Right," Carter added, watching her leave. He tapped his fingers against the counter for a couple of seconds, trying to find Mark with his eyes. Two ther pair of eyes found him instead. 

He heard someone clear his throat, but everyone seemed to be coughing or complaining, so he decided to ignore it. 

"John?"

Carter turned around and jumped back, almost slipping on the floor. "Georgia," he exclaimed but then cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant and manly. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"

Georgia smiled and leaned against the window of the front desk. "I need to ask you something."

Carter looked around and went over to the other side to meet her, walking away with her towards the lounge. "Something wrong?"

"No, no," Georgia smiled and fidgeted with her fingers a little. "Um, my sister is crashing at my place, and she's studying for the bar. I already got an ultimatum about being quiet and staying out of her way. Sooo," she hesitated, looking at his wide open brown eyes. She looked around to make sure no one was watching and continued. "Do you... wanna have some dinner? Or something"

Carter nodded, with a smile. "Or something?"

Georgia panicked a little, "I mean no. Um, just like, something something. Not sooomething," she added a little seductively at the end.

Carter chuckled, looking at his shoes. He couldn't possibly think of a reason as to why it was still hard for the both of them to ask the other on a date. It had been so simple at first. It didn't take him five seconds to make up his mind and ask her out when she first came into the ER. But now, every time they saw each other, it was as if they were strangers. That scared him. Not because it seemed as if they were doomed. On the contrary, it scared him because he was beginning to care about her, and 

~*~

Dave let out a sigh as both him and Carter stared at the number 1214 on Luka's door. He turned to Carter before they did anything. "Why are we here. Or more importantly, why am **I** here?"

Carter tried to whisper, "Because, I don't know what's gonna happen in there. You didn't see him on the lounge, he almost killed me."

"So basically I'm here to keep the big guy down," Dave said. 

"In a nutshell, I am the brains, and you are the brawn," Carter said. 

"I don't like playing cupid, Carter," Dave warned his friend as he put his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

"We're not playing cupid, Dave. We're just making sure he's fine," Carter said. 

"Whatever," Dave added nonchalantly. "Just knock on the door already cause I don't want anyone to see me going into a hotel room with a guy." 

Carter rolled his eyes, knocking on the door just once.

"I mean, you're a handsome man, Carter. I just don't swing that way," Dave continued.

Carter shook his head, "I'm starting to regret my decision of bringing you along, Dave."

Dave only bopped along to an imaginary music, looking around the hallway as they waited. "Do you think he'll let me take some towels home?" he asked all of a sudden, being shot with a deadly stare from Carter. "What? Mine are worn out." 

Carter rolled his eyes, "Dave, this is serious. If you don't wanna help you can just leave."

Dave smiled playfully. "Well, I don't really give much of a damn, but Luka's a decent man," he said. "Mostly I just wanna hear the gossip."

Carter decided to ignore Dave, and knocked again, looking down at the floor.

"Who is it?" a muffled voice came from the inside.

Carter looked at Dave with a semi alarmed look. He knew Luka would not open the door if he knew they were there. But before all of that, Carter was surprised Luka was in his room. He suddenly felt an elbow being jammed into his ribs

Carter shook his head in confusion, "I don't get it, she said she was fine."

Dave looked at Luka and chuckled. "Let me teach you something about little boys and little girls, Carter. We use different languages. When guys say fine, it means fine." He turned to Luka, "What does it mean when women say they're fine, Luka?"

"I am not fine, and I'm going to make you pay for it," Luka said, tapping on the sides of the chair with his fingers. 

"See?" Dave said.

"That's crazy," Carter shook his head again. 

"And women, my dear friend, are crazy," Dave said matter of factly and leaned back. 

Carter looked at Luka, who nodded approvingly.

~*~

"One down, one to go," Carter whispered to himself as his stomach turned to knots. He took a deep breath as he stood in front of Abby's door alone. When he went to see Luka, he was scared the man might physically harm him. He was scared now also, but scared of what he might find, scared that something might have happened. He wanted to give Abby some credit and believe she wouldn't go to a bar and get drunk after all the hard work. But after seeing her the night before, acting as if nothing had happened... he just wasn't sure anymore. 'Some kind of friend,' he thought. But he knew Luka was right. 

He cleared his throat and looked at his watch, he'd have to pick up Georgia in a couple of hours. So he kicked the fear away and knocked on her door a couple of times. And then, he feared for his safety here also. No answer. 

"Abby?" he called out as friendly as he could, trying to let her know he wasn't the enemy.

Still no answer. "Abby?" he called again, knocking on her door. 

He let out a sigh, looking at the top of the door and then at the knob. He could hear movement inside, so he knew she was there. "Abby, open up, it's Carter," he added louder.

For a moment he dwelled on the idea of leaving, but then, the door unlocked, remaining closed. He looked at the knob for a moment, waiting for her to open the door, but when that didn't happen, he realized it was his job to do so. It reminded him of scary movies he saw as a child, when the victim opens the door slowly to peek his head into a dark room, and from the inside, the monster would shred him to pieces. He turned the knob all the way first, and then pushed the door slowly, peeking his head in. No monster.

"Abby?" he asked again.

"What do you want?"

Carter walked in and closed the door behind him. He looked at the apartment, which looked like the remaining of a nuclear testing in a Pacific Island. She was walking from one side to the other, trying to clean up after her outburst of rage.

"Are you ok?" Carter asked, standing still. 

"Never been better," Abby said as she swept some broken glass.

"I can see that," Carter added. He smiled, looking down, and then looked up at her again, putting his bag down. "Luka told me what happened."

Abby stopped what she was doing, and looked at him. She was about to let the anger take over, but instead, let the sarcasm sit behind the wheel. "Oh yeah, I forgot you two were 

~*~

She cried forever, and when forever was over, she kept crying. Carter just held her, rocking her back and forth. He knew he had done something cruel, and it was hard for him to keep his own tears back. It felt like shooting your own dog because he had rabies. But he knew someone had to snap her out of that denial. He knew someone had to let her know she wasn't fine, that because she had done this before, it didn't mean that she was an expert. 

He had lived a year after his recovery in denial also. He had taken it for granted and it almost costed him his job and his life. Funny to think it was Abby who used to tell him to take it slow, and here she was, making the same mistake he had made. 

She tried to control her sobs as the smell of Carter's new shirt tickled on her nose. "... I hit him."

"I know," Carter said. 

"I hit him in the face," she cried. 

"I know," Carter repeated.

"Is he ok?" she asked.

Carter smiled, "He'll live." He kissed her forehead and craddled her for a couple of minutes until she calmed down. "Abby?" he added in the middle of the silence.

"Yeah?" she answered. 

"You're not ready to go back to work," he said and heard her chuckle, and he chuckled as well. 

~*~

Luka sat on the bed, his back against the backboard. "You don't have to be ashamed, Abby. And if someone says something, just join them," he said simply. 

Abby raised her head from her pillow, her hair all over her face, "Join them?"

Luka's head danced, "You know, if someone says something funny, like Dave, just make fun of yourself too."

Abby didn't move for a while, but kept looking at him. Her face then fell, "Oh my God, you've been watching Full House," she said in complete disbelief.

Luka smiled guiltily and continued, "See, DJ got a D in Spanish, and Danny went over to talk to her teacher, only they kissed and DJ was ashamed to go back to school because she knew everyone would make fun of her. So Joey gave her this advice to diffuse the situation with humor, and it worked."

"Until Danny came out of the coats closet and everyone made twice as much fun of her, and the teacher didn't even change her grade," Abby said and stood up, walking to the bathroom. 

Luka shook his head and followed her, "The point is you can't let them get to you. And trust me, no one will say anything, they all just wanna see you again."

Abby put some paste on her toothbrush and turned to look at him. "Didn't Jesse tell her that it was better if she used violence?"

Luka nodded his head. "See, comedy works."

Abby threw him a tissue, closed the door and began to brush her teeth. 

~*~

"Well, this is me," Georgia said, looking up her apartment building. 

Carter looked up also and nodded, feeling the sudden change in the air. "It's nice."

"Yeah," Georgia nodded as well. "I'd... I'd ask you up, b-but..."

"That's ok," Carter interrupted her. He looked down at her, green eyes staring up at him like two emeralds suddenly discovered in the depths of the earth. A sudden chill made the trees hum as they rocked back and forth, and without knowing why he rubbed his hands against her arms to prevent her from the cold. If she was experiencing anything like him, then there was no need for it because he was completely oblivious about temperature changes... or a nuclear holocaust for that matter. 

And then as natural as it is to grow up, live and die, he bent down and kissed her. Her lips were cold, and now that he could feel his own, they were too. But as he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, the temperature seemed to rise. And it wasn't the kiss itself, but the fact that she was kissing him back. 

And as quickly as it came, it was over. He pulled back, not breaking eye contact and watched her face lit when she smiled. At that moment he wanted to hold her even closer. Just hold her in the middle of a cold night as the trees hummed and her eyes looked like emeralds and her lips were cold. But even rainbows have an end.

"Good night," she whispered at him with a sweet smile.

Carter was well aware that he should have said good night back, or good bye, or I'll call you. But the words he was fighting to blurt out were simply not coming.

He watched her go up the stairs, looking back and shooting a flirty look at him. He wasn't sure where the music was coming from, but suddenly there were trompets, pianos, drums and Frank Sinatra. 

As he walked away, he danced to the music on his head. "If this is just the beginning, my life is gonna to be... beeeeautiful!" He whistled along, very well aware that the few people on the streets were shooting glances at him. He simply bowed his head to a lady and continued on his musical path. 

If this was cloud nine, then people were selling it short. It felt more like could 90. A cloud so high and exhilirating that you are no longer in the atmosphere, but somewhere where the air is sweeter, and breathing is not even necessary. It's not love. It's the realization that love exists, and it's not just something you read in books, see on movies, or hear from someone who heard from someone, who heard from someone that love was real. 

Could John Carter be fortunate enough to experience it full bloom this time? Could this wild rhythm of booms and poundings inside his heart mean something significant? Something good? Something? The answer, as real as was the music only he was hearing, came painfully in the image of Luka. The music stopped with the crack of the record. He looked back at Georgia's apartment building. Love, as well as a rollercoaster, the stock market, life, comes with its ups and downs. But how low were the downs? Could they completely inhaliate him?

As he walked in the silence of the night the pieces of the puzzle all danced in front of him. There was Luka, in love. Love is something that should wipe you off your feet and send you wam, bam, straight to the moon. Could it also pound you to the ground until you reach hell? Because Luka looked like one of Satan's hostages. As much as a little voice inside of him reminded that Luka and Abby were a special case, maybe a little too special, a louder voice kept repeating, "That's you, John Carter. Call security on love and release the hounds."

By the time he reached his apartment, his mind was ready to call it quits. All of this after a little kiss, a small yet glorious kiss that had made him go up and down and up and down again. As he dropped his body into the bed, he turned off his lamp and above all the sirens blaring inside his head and the warning signs hurting his ocular membranes, he smiled to himself. He thought of Luka and Abby and the hell they were going through. Yet the heartache his friends were going through was opaqued by the events of the night. All of this for the sake of the heart. 

Ain't love a kick in the head?

To be continued...


	15. 24 Steps: Part 15

Disclaimer: None of the ER characters belong to me. 

Author's notes: I guess this one's kinda short and a little boring, but everybody goes through a 5 minute transition. I just wanna finish this story cause I've been writing it for **a freakin' year!**

24 Steps: Part 15 

"... It's 9:25. As for the weather, it looks like we're finally getting a little bit of sunshine after those April showers. If you live near the city, you might wanna leave you car at home and enjoy..."

"... It's 10:25, and you're listening to WEBZ 91.5, Chicago, and coming up in five minutes is the Jazz hour..."

"... If you've just tuned in, it's 11:41, and you're listening to WEBZ. And the next five callers will win tickets for the Van Gough art exhibit down in the museum. That's the first five callers..."

"... Coming back from lunch, it's 1:24, and you're listening to WEBZ..."

Abby hit the snooze button one last time and remained still on her bed. Her body felt heavy, and her mind scrambled. She knew she should be up doing something, but that something, whatever it was, felt too unappealing. She debated on whether letting the alarm wake her up on the next round, or at least getting out of bed to watch some television. 

She turned on her back, staring at the ceiling. Is this how Maggie feels when her depressions are starting? But this wasn't a depression, it was another knock out after finally being able to stand on her own. She had been so sure that she could make it back to work, ignore this recovery and continue living alongside her estranged life. She wasn't so sure she could make it anymore. It felt as if someone had taken her confidence and self esteem and had made them into little pieces before throwing them away. She couldn't even remember what an IV was anymore. 

So why should a person feeling like this get out of bed at all? For what? If she couldn't even control her emotions, what good would it do to try and function into the real world again? And the worst part was that she had dragged Luka into this. He had meant to help her and now her stupid mistakes had hurt them both. She wondered if she could ever make it okay between them again. She knew he was right, from the moment he said she wasn't ready. It was the reason as to why she wanted to break up with him from the start. Luka didn't know anything about living with an alcoholic. She knew his intentions were good, because well, he was stuck with her. But he didn't know, had no idea, what it's like living with someone like her. 

Maybe that was the reason as to why this had gotten so out of control. In her desperate attempt to prove him just how hard it was, to prove to him that he could never understand what she was going through... everything exploded into a big mess. And even after this mess, he remained ignorant about alcoholism, and it all went back to her, it always backfired in her face. 

Sitting on her bed, she looked around her room. The radio was right, it was a glorious day outside. She peeked her head out the window to see kids coming back from school, playing baseball on the streets and running to tag each other. Mothers gossiped as they pushed their strollers, and men in sweat pants jogged along with their dogs. In a park away from her building, there were towels spread around as people used the opportunity to get a new tan for the upcoming summer. It was like watching a movie set in a giant screen in front of her window.

Inside, her apartment scared her. There was an eerie silence she couldn't stand to listen. Nothing was moving, and despite the sun shining through the windows, it seemed too dark. Somewhere inside she felt like going for a walk. Maybe having to think about which leg to move first, or trying to avoid the cracks of the side walk, would distract her and make this day a little less excruciating, but that seemed like a wish she wouldn't get. 

Looking inside the garbage can, she could still see the remaining of the bottle of Vodka Carter had brought the day before. It was a good thing he chose that particular drink, because she was sure she wouldn't be able to endure the smell of any other liquid in her apartment without getting those urges again. 

Sitting on her couch, she picked up the phone and as she looked through the pages of her phonebook, her mind began to unscramble and all of a sudden she felt like running away, but remained still. 

She waited, and waited some more. Her fingers began to tremble, but she held them down steadily with her thumb, forming a fist; she reached for her cigarettes. Glancing at the television, her eyes closed instantly at the view, her reflection looked like the bottom of a garbage can. 

"Hello?"

Abby bit on her lower lip tight, and stood up to pace around. After lighting her cigarette and letting out the first puff, she asked, "Renee?"

"Who is this?" Renee asked. 

"Um, it's Abby? Abby Lockhart?" she said, her voice trembling slightly. 

"Abby!" Renee laughed, glad to hear from her friend. "It's nice to hear from you. How are you doing?"

Abby held on to the phone so strong, that she could her the plastic crack on her palm. "Not so good," she let out in a whisper, bringing her cigarette back to her mouth. 

Renee remained quiet for a moment, waiting for Abby to say something else, but the silence continued until she spoke again. "What happened, sweetie?"

Abby let out a sigh, dropping her heavy body on the couch again. "I blew it again."

~*~

Luka stared out the window at Doc Magoos' as he clutched the newspaper in his hands and a waitress came over to refill his coffee. He looked up at her, gave her a polite smile, and took a sip of the drink. He resumed his watch, glancing towards the bay as an ambulance pulled up and Cleo ran outside along with Yosh, both attending to a patient he couldn't see well. 

He decided to go back to the newspaper. Not to many listings or request for ER doctors on the classifieds. Not that he was thinking of quitting, but you always have to keep your eyes open, be ready to grab that second chance by the tail. There was a big demand for nurses, and he was sure that if Abby saw this, she would quit in a second. 

Suddenly he couldn't even concentrate on the newspaper anymore. Kerry wanted to see him, but he wasn't sure he wanted to see her. She probably wanted him to get back to work as fast as he could, ignoring his feelings about the subject. It never failed with Weaver, she never surprised anyone, at least not him. As he stood there, he felt a strong urge to go home, screw her, teach her a lesson; he wasn't her slave. If he lost his job, well, County wasn't the only hospital in Chicago. 

"Dr. Kovac?" Jing Mei asked as she walked over hesitantly, holding a cup of coffee in her hand. 

Luka smiled faintly as he looked up, praying she was there to say hello and then leave. "Dr. Chen," he said politely.

"I didn't see you at the hospital today, I was wondering if you were sick," she said as she leaned against the other side of his booth. 

Good, she hadn't heard. He shifted on his seat, gathering the scattered sections of his newspaper. "I asked for the day off."

"Oh," Jing Mei nodded, wondering why he had asked for the day off, if he was only going to use it to sit in a booth at Doc Magoos. "How's Abby? I heard she was back," she asked as she took a sip of her coffee.

Luka looked up, and then stood up. "I don't know, why don't you call her?"

Jing Mei realized that sounded wrong, so she let her head drop a bit. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said, apologizing for the break up.

"It's not your fault," Luka said as he dropped a five dollar bill on the table. He gave her one last forced smile. "Excuse me, I have to go."

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow," Jing Mei said, regretting her decision to say hello. 

"Bye," Luka mumbled before he walked out.

~*~

Go to a meeting, find a sponsor, take it easy, one step at a time, it's going to be okay, call me back. The phrases danced around Abby's head as she walked along the streets of her neighborhood. Everything looked different somehow, like the walls of her building, which she still believed had been painted. She had been living in this neighborhood for years and she never really stopped to meet her neighbors. There was an old lady in front of a townhouse, sweeping the leaves off the side walk. There were two men in the townhouse next to that one, standing very close and whispering suggestively into each other's ears. They looked like they were in love, and it made her smile. She jumped as she walked past a fence and a dog jumped at her, barking wildly. 

"Spike! Get back here!" a man with a beer in his hands called on the dog, and waved at Abby, reassuring her it was okay. 

Abby smiled weakly and continued on her walk. If she walked a little faster, maybe she would make it to the meeting. Renee had given her a list of support groups near her, not knowing Abby already knew them by heart. One of them met at 4:30, not so far from where she lived. Somewhere inside she knew she should have gone to **her **group, to the people she already knew. Not this time. She had hit rock bottom after five years of glory, of sharing her successful life, of sponsoring, of giving out advice. She actually got to host a meeting once, and as she recalled, it was one of the best feelings she had ever experienced. She didn't need to see the look on their faces now. When you suddenly become failure, you don't wanna be where everybody knows your name.

Why do people insist on painting their doors green? She pushed it slightly, and peeked her head into the partially full room. There were a couple of people talking to each other, and the rest were either wishing they could be a part of the conversation or wishing they were somewhere else. She poured herself a cup of coffee as she stared towards the podium. Putting in two packs of sugar, she stirred the drink and chose a chair on the very back. A couple of people turned towards her, all giving her a smile, and she smiled back. It was her drunk-radar. She could spot a drunk five miles away. She considered if a gift. There are no rules. It's not like black people spotting black people. It wasn't physical, or emotional... it was something in the eyes. She could probably tell which were the success stories, and which were here to announce yet another relapse. 

As she glanced at her watch she heard as a door opened, and a man walked inside. He put a couple of folders on the podium, and walked over to shake another man's hand. They began to talk but Abby couldn't hear about what. This was her chance, her opportunity to reach for the door and at least get a free cup of coffee of the evening. But her butt was glued to her seat. 

The speaker waved at a couple more people, and then stood behind the podium. Whatever happened to sitting in a circle?

"Hi guys," he said as he looked down at his papers, and scratched his neck. "My name is Nigel, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Nigel," the room sang. 

"Uh, I see a couple of new faces around," he said, and everybody looked at Abby. She looked away, knowing she was the **only **new face. 

"If any of you wants some information, or has any questions, you can see me after the meeting," he said, and flipped around a couple of papers. After setting out the facts and missions of Alcoholics Anonymous, he let out a sigh, indicating they'd be getting into business. "Okay. Congratulations on keeping our 4:30 spot, we got the room for one more year..."

At this, everyone began to applaud. Abby was already regretting coming here. 

"Um, so let's just get back to business," he said, looking around. "Anybody has anything to share today?"

A woman sitting two rows in front of Abby raised her hand, and Nigel invited her over. 

She stood up shyly and walked over. When she lowered her head to talk into the microphone, her voice made the speakers screech. "Oops," she chuckled. "Hi, my name is Maria, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi Maria."

Abby kept watching as the woman began to talk about running to alcohol when her parents died in a car accident. Her sister was years older than her, and Maria had to go live with her and her new husband. Abby began to drift, not really listening to the fights Maria and her sister used to have, about how one time she came home late, her sister was working late and her own brother-in-law raped her. About running away after the incident, and discovering she was pregnant. About nights of black outs, and learning that drinking during her pregnancy had killed her child, a child she never wanted to begin with.

Abby couldn't listen to any of this. Her mind kept thinking about the events of the previous two days. Coming home, to her apartment, to Luka and Carter, and to chaos. This really wasn't the way she had pictured her when Luka drove away from rehab. She had expected a lot of support and smoldering, not World War III. 

As Abby had suspected, Maria ended in a positive note. "... This morning I woke up, and I looked back to those days, and I realized... wow, I have come a long way," she chuckled. "I was a feeling I just, I really can't explain it at all. I have a life. I have... a glorious boyfriend, I have a job... I love myself. And... I know the road was hard, and I know there were moments when I wanted to forget about everyone and everything and just start drinking again. I, um, I really don't know what kept me going. I had no one. And for the first time in twenty years I realized that all this time, I've been fighting for myself, for my own life. The fight was hard, but it was worth it."

Everyone immediately began to applaud as Maria went back to her chair, and held some hands as she smiled brightly. 

Abby only slapped her hands once, and sipped her coffee. Just what she wanted, someone she was months ago. This woman had taken her story and turned her into hers. In return, Abby had taken on the story of that man who was sitting on a corner, obviously not doing well at all. Months ago she was sharing her success story, now she was back on step two. Quite frankly, there was no higher Power strong enough to fix this mess.

~*~

Luka walked into the ER and it seemed that everyone stopped just to look at him. It was probably his own paranoia, but it made him very uncomfortable. As he held his jacket in one arm, he walked towards the front desk. 

"Is Kerry around, Frank?" Luka asked, tapping on the counter of the front desk. 

"She's waiting in the conference room," Frank said, looking at Luka from head to toes over his glasses. 

Without a reply, Luka began to walk towards the stairs. He smiled as he walked along and the nurses waved at him. None of the doctors were around, maybe he could make it to the stairs without being questioned. 

"Hey, Luka."

Or not.

Luka glanced at Carter and smiled. Actually, Carter was okay. "Hey," he replied. 

"Meeting Weaver?" Carter asked, putting his hands inside his pockets. 

"Yeah," Luka said. 

Carter wanted to continue talking, ask him if he was okay or what he had been up to, but he didn't now how. He knew Luka's face was begging him to mind his own business, so Carter left him be. "Good luck."

Luka looked at Carter as he pressed the elevator button, "Thanks." He smiled, and watched as the doctor walked away. 

When he stepped out of the elevator, his heart actually began to beat faster. Why? He didn't know. He hated confrontation, but somehow always seemed to get into it anyway. It was still hard for him to control his impulses and emotions after ten years of failed attempts. It was almost as if a second personality was taking over his body, doing things he could never do himself. Every time he felt that anger burning his heart, it was inevitable. He was an active volcano. 

He opened the door to the small room and found Mark and Kerry sitting alongside each other. What the hell is Mark doing here? He acknowledged them both by raising his head slightly, but not with a smile.

"Hi, Luka," Mark said, holding a chart. 

"Sit down," Kerry said, indicating the chair in front of them. 

Luka didn't say thanks, but sat on the chair she pointed at. They both had a glass of water next to them, but he just sat back. "What am I being punished for?" he asked rather coldly. 

Kerry let out a sigh, resting her chin on her hands. "Nothing, we're just here to talk."

"Talk about what?" Luka asked. 

"I think we know what," Mark said and looked at Luka with an obvious expression on his face. 

"Right," Luka said, looking to his side. "I'm not going to apologize for anything. If you want me to, I can find another job."

"Don't be so melodramatic, Luka," Kerry said as she shifted on her seat. "We called you here because we wanted to say, yes, you were right, you should have been left out of this from the start."

Luka sat forward. "Sorry doesn't change anything."

"Of course it doesn't," Mark said. "What's done is done, so we all have to deal with it."

"So, everyone down there makes mistakes and they get fired or expelled, but when you do, we have to deal with it?" Luka asked cynically. 

"Of course not. However, I don't think that what I did was reason enough to fire me. If you do, then take it with the board," Kerry said. "We're here because we're professionals and adults and when something happens, an adult sits down to try and fix it."

"There's nothing to fix in the ER, Kerry. Abby's not coming back, that was why I was called in," Luka said. 

"You're right again," Kerry said.

"And if you're talking about my personal life, that's my personal life. Did you ruin it? Yes. Abby and I are not together anymore. Can we fix that by having a meeting? No," Luka said. He could feel the anger rising, but this time tried to keep it cool. 

"Sorry to hear that," Kerry said. "And I take full responsibility for it. But I want you to understand that what I did was for..."

"For the best interest of the hospital," Luka finished her phrase. 

Kerry stared at him for a moment and then at Mark, who was staring at Luka blankly. She decided to ignore the comment and continued. "You can come back to work tomorrow. You still have your own schedule, take the rest of the day off."

As she gathered her papers, she stood up. "I already said I was sorry, and I meant it. I'm sorry about you and Abby, but I hope we can put this past us."

Without saying anything else, Kerry walked out. Mark picked up his work, looking at Luka. "Look, I don't agree with Kerry, or what she did. But unfortunately she's the boss and we have to suck it up." As he walked towards the door, he gave Luka a couple of pats on the back. "If you need anything, let me know."

Luka murmured a, "Thanks," and remained seated on the chair. Well, this was more than he was expecting, but the situation remained bad. No matter how much Kerry apologized, the damage was done. Just like no matter how much Eastern Europe progressed, his family was gone. It made him want to put his fist against a wall. The bad part was that Kerry was right, as always. She apologized and that was all she could do. As for the rest, he would have to suck it up.

~*~

One last glance at her watch, and the meeting was over. It sounded like the ocean as people began to get off their chairs and to walk outside. Abby reached inside her bag, taking out a card and holding it tight in her hand. She waited for everyone to leave before she walked over to Nigel. He looked up at her as he gathered his things and smiled. 

"Um, I have a, uh..." Abby tried to explain, showing him her card.

Nigel smiled and took the card, signing it on the first spot. "Here you go..." he read the card. "Abby Lockhart."

"Thank you," Abby said as she put the card back on her bag. 

"Will we see you around here again?" he asked, and they both began to walk out together.

"I don't know. I had this other group, but I don't know if I'll be going back to them," Abby said. 

"Did you relapse recently?" Nigel asked. 

Abby just nodded her head. 

"I get it," he said. "But you know we're not here to judge anyone. We're all human."

"That's just what the pamphlet says," Abby replied as they walked down a wide stair case. "But you know that they're still thinking about it deep down. We're all human."

"That's true," Nigel said. "But by running away from the problem, you're not going to solve it. You have to face the people who love you, just like you have to face your addiction. If you don't, then you're never gonna get to step 12."

Abby looked around as they walked out of the building, the sun blinding her eyes. She knew he was right, but that didn't make it easy. 

"But if you choose to stay, we'll welcome you either way," he smiled, and pointed to his car. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, I think I'll walk," Abby smiled. "I have a lot to think about." There was something about these people that always made it easier to share. It was as if they were therapists, almost. She never hesitated to provide any information with them, or share any of her life's problems. Maybe she should marry Nigel. 

"Okay. Take it easy, Abby," Nigel said with a warm smile. 

"You too," Abby said, and walked away. 

~*~

"So? How'd it go?" Carter asked as he ran up to Luka, who was half way through the ambulance bay. 

Luka turned around, trying not to appear tortured so much. "Better than I thought."

"You're staying?" Carter asked. 

"Yeah, she apologized," Luka said. 

"Wow," Carter chuckled. They walked for a moment in silence and Carter turned around. "What are you doing tonight? The game's on."

Luka shook his head. "I don't know. I have a lot of charts to work on now."

"Dave's coming, come on. Maybe this time we can find out who that Claire is," Carter pleaded. 

Luka chuckled but stopped walking, all of a sudden turning serious. "Did you see Abby?"

Carter stopped too. God, he really didn't want to answer that question, he **really **didn't. So he looked around to avoid Luka's eyes. "Uh, yeah, after I talked to you."

"Is she okay?" Luka asked. 

Carter bit his lower lip, hesitating. If he lied, he knew Luka would know. If he told the truth, he would probably be disappointing the man. "Um..."

"The truth," Luka said, as if he could read Carter's thoughts. 

Carter let out a chuckle, looking down. "She's gonna be okay now."

"What happened?" Luka asked, wanting to know every detail. 

"Look," Carter started. "She wasn't doing very well, and we had a rough confrontation, so I'm not gonna lie to you, she hit rock bottom."

Luka let out a sigh and looked away. 

"But that's a good thing. Now she knows she has to take it slowly and she'll take the right steps," Carter said. 

"Or start drinking again," Luka added. 

"No, no," Carter shook his head. "Abby knows better."

"I hope so," Luka said. He wanted to ask more, go see her, at least call her on the phone, but he knew Abby didn't want to see him at the moment. He still had that red mark on his face to prove that. The frustrating part was that he would have to stand back, and give her time. By the way Carter made it sound, it seemed like it would be too much time for him to endure. He needed to see her now, as much as he wanted to kill Weaver.

Carter raised his eyebrows slightly. "So? Drinks?" 

Luka really didn't want another boys night out. She didn't want to spend a night with Malucci only to carry him into his bed when the man passed out. He really didn't want to go to a greasy bar where the game was playing and there were plates of peanuts on the tables.

But on the other hand, he had a lonely and depressing night working on charts, and his mind wandering to dangerous territory. He wanted to put Abby out of his mind, stop seeing the various images on his head where she went to a bar and got drunk again. He felt, **knew**, that he should be watching over her, her every move, control her thoughts if he could. He didn't care how much she hated it, he needed to take care of her, it was something he simply couldn't control. He couldn't trust anyone else watching over her. Anyone else wouldn't know what to do, he did. He couldn't even believe Carter's words, not until he saw it for himself. He was standing in the middle of the street and he didn't even know how she was doing, if she was crying, if she was depressed. And if she was, the heartache was that he couldn't do anything about it. 

Carter waited for a response, and Luka only lowered his head as he let out an, "Okay."

"Okay," Carter repeated. "Same place, 8 o'clock?"

"Yeah," Luka said, and with a smile, he resumed on his walk. He regretted his decision all the way to his car. Why did he always have to say yes to these things?

~*~

The evenings were beginning to get warmer and the sun a stronger orange hue as it made its way down on the horizon. Abby stood by a street post, watching as the light in front of her told her it was okay to cross the street. She watched as people rushed past her, moving their legs faster to the other side before the cars began to run again. The red stop hand flashed five more times, and suddenly cars began to hush in front of her. Glancing at Luka's hotel one more time, she felt as something inside of her, that hollow void, made her heart sink in. This was too much to take. 

She turned around and walked back towards the other side of the sidewalk, parallel to the hotel. As she did, she watched as a limousine parked in front of the hotel, letting out a middle aged man who was holding the hand of a young blonde, probably in her early twenties. The dress she was wearing was black and too tight, revealing the end of her tights just where the pelvis and the thigh met. Her heels were as thin as air, and high enough to make her come face to face with her male companion. She couldn't deny the obvious dye job, and her make up was enough quantity to dress an entire herd of brides' maids; her brain cells weren't.

They were probably going to have sex tonight. She wondered just how close to Luka's room they were going to stay. The man was obviously rich, obviously married, and obviously heartless. Still, somewhere inside, she knew they were luckier than her. It's easy to go through life when you have that amount of make up in your face. It's easy to ignore your misfortunes when you don't have a heart. She began to wonder if the pharmacy next to her apartment building sold Maybellene.

"Hey, watch it, lady!" she heard a male voice hiss at her after her body bumped into him. 

Abby looked down and gasped, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

The man looked up as he gathered the cans of beans and boxes of cereal. "Just watch where you're going, okay?"

"I'm so sorry," Abby said as she picked up the last box of Fruit Loops and put it inside the man's paper bag. He threw one last mean look at her, and continued on his path. Abby felt a slight pain on her wrist, and shook it a couple of times as she stood in the middle of the side walk in front of the hotel, witnessing as the middle age man gave his sex toy a peck on the lips and together they walked into the hotel.

She looked down at her shoes and let out a sigh. Why was this so hard? Why couldn't she just walk in there, tell him she's sorry, that he had been right all along and forget it even happened in the first place? Why couldn't she be the little man this time? Because Luka wasn't expecting her to, that's why. He was probably in bed, watching television and knowing that Abby would never come back to say she was sorry, to admit she was wrong. The thought made her sad. She had been too busy trying to transform herself into the kind of person who doesn't need anything from anybody, a wall of pure bricks. In the meantime she had forgotten that when people walk into walls of bricks, they get hurt.

Her heart stopped beating and her whole body jumped up when she watched as Luka's car parked in front of the hotel. Luka never used the valet parking. She took a couple of steps back, trying to hide away, but there were too many people around her for him to notice she was there. He got out of the car, and during those two seconds when he faced her way, she tried to analyze his face. He looked tired, maybe mad, with a mix normalcy. He tossed the keys to one of the valet guys, and without looking back, walked into the hotel.

Abby stood there and watched as his car was driven away. He was home now. She could kiss her pride good bye for a couple of minutes and knock on his door. But how would Luka react to see her there? How would his face change? Abby had put him through too much for him to forgive her. She had hurt him too much for him to take her back. 

Luka was done with her. 

This time she wouldn't glance back, she'd walk away. She didn't know just what she was walking to this time. Physically, her apartment. Mentally, the unknown. She was hanging from the ceiling by a thread. Going to rehab was like being born again, but not having a childhood, going straight into adulthood. She didn't know what to do. No one had told her what to do. She didn't have her job, or her family, or her friends, or her marriage to Richard, or Luka. She had nothing. Looking into her own future gave her goose bumps. Maybe her life should be like Ben's, going in and out of rehab after countless relapses. She could be a drunk forever. At least people expect you to be a nobody when you are. When you screw up, no one is surprised. You're not expected to do a good job, or be the world's best girlfriend, or be a spectacular friend. They have no hopes for you, and that is safety.

As she rounded a corner, she watched as a mother with five children crossed the street. The kids were shouting, and running, and pulling on their mother's skirt, and crying, and hitting each other. It felt familiar, somehow. Each one of those children was like an aspect of her life at the moment: her job, her friends, her life, her sobriety, and Luka. There they were, running around, spinning her body out of control, pushing away, pulling away, running back and forth, making it impossible to hear, feel, or see. It was a horrible thing to see, how the mother couldn't even control one child. All of a sudden, the mother's heel fell on a crack and she came down on the floor. 

Abby rushed over, bending down slightly. "Are you okay?"

The woman, with tired eyes, looked up and smiled slightly. "Yeah. Oh, this is so embarrassing," she said as she used Abby's hand to pull herself up. 

"Mom, we're gonna be late!" the older girl said, crossing her arms in front of her and holding no concern for her mother. 

"Jessica, can you please for once just think of someone rather than yourself?" the woman scolded her child. 

"Forget it! I'm walking there myself!" the girl shouted and walked away. 

All the other kids began to yell at their big sister, and Abby turned towards the woman. "Are you sure you're okay? You could have sprained your ankle."

"No, no. I'm fine, thank you," the woman replied as she watched her daughter walk away from her. "Come on, everybody, let's go."

"Mom, can we go for ice cream?" a little boy asked as she held on to his mother's hand. 

"Not today," the woman said as she began to limp and every one of the kids began to protest. 

Abby watched. The woman walked to the west, and her daughter to the east. That was five minus one. Abby wondered just which aspect of her life this girl represented.

To be continued...


	16. 24 Steps: Part 16

Disclaimer: None of the ER characters belong to me. 

Author's notes: Because there's nothing sweeter than tormenting Abby...

24 Steps: Part 16 by Carolina

Getting ready in the mornings never seemed like such a significant task as it was today. The sun seemed to have risen late, the paper boy hadn't made his rounds, and the alarm clock never had a chance to start its relentless beep. She wasn't really sure, but she had the feeling her eyes had remained opened all night. Abby took a longer shower, actually did her hair, and ironed her uniform three times. Her stomach was twice as uptight, and the thought of breakfast actually made her sick. A week and a half after coming home, she was going back to work. 

And it seemed like every decision was too big for her brain to unscramble; milk or cream, drive or walk, taxi or the El... As she locked her door, she leaned into it, letting out a sigh. She heard her neighbor getting ready to walk out, so she quickened her pace and got out of there before the lady tangled her in another meaningless conversation. Howard the cat was still scared to come out after Luka had scared him and now every time the woman saw Abby, she'd do nothing but reprimand her, the latest being that Luka should pay for Howard's cat psychology sessions.

The El was practically empty, and a glance at her watch let her know it was still too early. But she sat back and tried to relax. For the past week and a half she had done nothing but watch television, go on walks, go to her meetings, call Maggie, call Carter... she hadn't talked to Luka. She had yet to come up with the best words to apologize for her behavior. Even if she wrote a Shakespearean speech, she knew Luka would be reluctant to forgive her. Carter told her that he was back at work, but things between him and Weaver were always tense. He tried to keep conversations with others light, because someone would always ask him, "How is Abby doing?" So things at work for Luka hadn't been going well. Abby couldn't help but feeling responsible. Responsible was selling it short. She couldn't feel but feeling like a scum. If it wasn't for her bullheadedness, Luka would be okay now. She didn't know if he asked about her, but she figured it was okay if he didn't. She wondered if he would ever care about her again. She wondered if he would smile in her presence once more, if she would ever be able to see that shine in his eyes every time he saw her, that shine she saw when he went to visit her in rehab. She had done so much damage that the odds were grossly against her. 

As she stepped out, a man pushed her, rushing towards the newspaper machine. After telling him a few of her own words, she walked down the stairs, watching as an ambulance rushed into the bay. The more steps she took, the more her stomach twisted and turned. She kept taking deep breaths, deep enough that people around her thought she was practicing for Lamaze class; one man asked her if she was in labor. She graciously told him she was okay, and after chuckling, she found herself face to face with the ER doors.

Or not. 

She made a U turn and headed towards Doc Magoos instead.

Sometimes a smell flies you back momentarily to places you know you have been before, but they're hard to remember. The smell of clay takes you back to pre school, but you can't really remember which day exactly. The smell of sloppy joes to high school, and old books to college days. The smell of Doc Magoos did the same. To the night she became Carter's sponsor, to Thanksgiving with Luka and Maggie, to countless of lonely nights, to meetings with friends and colleagues. She never realized how much she missed this place until she was far away from home. Not the hospital, not the ambulance bay, just Doc Magoos. Now all those memories flowed gracefully through her, leaving her breathless for a second or two. 

Trying to appear casual, she walked over and sat on a stool by the counter. "Can I have a tall black coffee with one of creme to go, please?" she smiled at the woman behind the counter, who repeated Abby's words and returned to do her task. 

Abby took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. A couple of strands of her hair fell on her face, and her fingers began to play with one of them as she looked forward. She felt as if it was her first day of school, in another country, with people who spoke a completely different language. All of a sudden her hand slipped inside her bag. She took out her packet of cigarettes and checked inside, only seven left. Those would probably be gone by her lunch break. If God really loved her, and had at least a little bit of compassion, then Luka wouldn't be working today. 

The waitress put the large cup of coffee in front of Abby, who immediately grabbed a couple of packets of sugar and began to shake them in the air. 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the elusive Miss Lockhart," a voice came from behind.

Abby looked back and wasn't discreet to show her disappointment at the sight of Robert Romano. 

"Morning," she mumbled as she turned back around. 

"You're not making that coffee Irish, are you?" Romano said as he took a seat next to hers. 

Abby slowly gave him one of her deadly stares, and returned to the safety of her coffee.

"Touché," Romano said and snapped his fingers at the waitress. "The usual."

Abby watched as a cascade of sugar fell on her coffee, and without moving she asked. "Aren't you gonna be late for surgery?"

Romano let out a couple of chuckles. "The boss sets his own schedule, and I get paid more. I bet you know a lot about life's generosities."

Abby continued to look at her coffee. "I bet I do."

"Come on, Miss Lockhart," Romano said, noticing her sarcastic tone. "Human error is what makes us stronger, if it wasn't for alcoholics and drug addicts we'd all be out of jobs."

She turned her heads towards him again, watching as the lights from the ceiling reflected on his shiny bald head. 

The waitress put her coffee in front of Romano and he continued. "So how was rehab? They still putting those little chocolate mints on the pillows?"

Abby turned towards Romano. "Do you enjoy being a prick? Or is it some kind of disability?"

Romano chuckled, mixing sugar into his coffee. "I'll let that one pass in hopes you don't kill anyone today."

Abby smiled sarcastically. "I don't know, are you feeling lucky?"

Romano nodded. "Strangely so, yes." He picked up his jacket. "Coffee's on me."

Abby looked back as he left, and looked at the waitress. "Can I have a donut too?"

"Sure," the waitress said, putting the donut in a bag.

"It's on Dr. Romano's tab, and, uh, give yourself a nice tip," Abby said as she grabbed the bag, gave the waitress a smile, and walked out. 

Well, nothing like an encounter with Romano to put her back on track. She stepped outside and this time didn't have any second thoughts before she approached the ER. The first thing she heard was the telephones ringing off the hook, and the first thing she saw was Randi smiling at her way as she tried to answer each one of them. Kerry saw Abby walk into the lounge and she followed quickly, with a few charts resting on her arms. 

"Abby, welcome back," Kerry said. 

Abby looked up, not having seen Kerry, and pasted a smile on her face, knowing she'd be hearing the same greeting over and over today. "Thank you."

"Are you ready?" Kerry asked. 

"Yeah," Abby said casually. 

"If you need to take it slow..."

"Thanks, Dr. Weaver, but I'm fine," Abby interrupted as she put her nurse jacket on. 

"Good," Kerry said. "But take it slow just in case."

Abby nodded, and watched as Kerry left. The day hadn't started and she already hated it. Even Kerry, a woman who cared more about the efficiency of her workers than their being, was sympathetically smothering her with special treatment. Carter would keep asking if she was okay every 5 seconds and the nurses probably already had their own version about the events of the last months. Those past few months, how could she have been so careless? She had been so careful about her recovery, about staying away from alcohol, about going to her meetings every week. And now she couldn't even remember why she relapsed in the first place. She couldn't even remember the exact day when she began drinking again. It just seemed like such a huge ordeal, and yet such a small cause. And every night she kept thinking about those 5 years, about how they had been her pride and comfort. She couldn't even count on that anymore. 

As she clipped her ID to her uniform, she took a deep breath and walked outside. She stood by the door for a moment, expecting every face in the hospital to turn towards her, but none of them did. 

She walked towards the desk, unsure of even the steps she was taking, and took a look at the board, scanning for Luka's name. She let out a sigh of relief when she didn't see it there. 

"Hey, welcome back," Carter said as he walked over, dropping a chart on the rack. 

Abby turned around and smiled. "Thanks."

"How are you feeling?" Carter asked.

There it is.

"I'm fine," Abby continued to smile despite her growing discomfort. 

"Well, if you are, then I need help on exam 2," Carter added and started to walk away. 

Abby looked around, feeling as if any step could break her down, and followed Carter down the hall. There was a drunken man snoring on the bed, and Abby flinched at the smell.

"Oh, God, please tell me it's not maggots," Abby moaned. 

Carter looked at her and frowned. "Sorry."

"God," Abby continued to complain, putting her gloves on. 

"I think most of them are dead, though, but he needs stitches. Sort of a welcome back present," Carter said as he put on his mask and sat on a stool by the bed. 

"A card would have been just fine," Abby said and sat on the other side. The smell and the sight made her nauseous and she had to look to the side for a while.

"You okay?" Carter asked. 

"Yeah," Abby mumbled, still looking away. 

"I can get Haleh..."

"I'm fine," Abby snapped. She got herself together and started to work again, feeling Carter's eyes on her head. God, she hated when people worried about her. Don't they have their own problems?

Carter shook his head, grabbing a pair of tweezers. All of a sudden he didn't know what to say, but just as he began to think of a possible topic of conversation, Abby interrupted the silence. 

"Luka working today?" she asked, trying to sound as casual as she could. 

"Yeah, he's here," Carter said. 

Abby looked up immediately. "I didn't see his name on the board."

"I think he's doing charts," Carter mumbled, looking down at the dirty body of the homeless man, who continued to snore. 

"Oh," Abby simply said and returned to work. 

"Did you talk to him yet?" Carter asked. 

Abby smiled. "You'd already know if I did."

"Right," Carter said as if he had been caught doing something bad. "Are you going to?"

Abby tried to take a deep breath, but the stench was too strong, so she just let out some of her breath. "Sometime in the future, maybe."

"Can't avoid him forever," Carter said. 

"I can try," Abby said. "Homey here has enough worms to keep me busy all day."

Carter chuckled. As he sewed on the wound, he felt an uncomfortable silence, and trying to second guess, he just asked. "Does it bother you? That Luka and I are friends?"

Abby looked up, confused. "No," she said. "Why would it?"

Carter shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. You don't seem comfortable with it."

Abby let out a sigh. "I guess I'm not used to you two being in the same room without snapping at each other's throats."

A small chuckle escaped Carter's lungs and he adjusted the mask around his mouth and nose. "You know I don't mind."

"I know," Abby said. 

"And if you want to talk to me about something, that doesn't mean I'm gonna go and tell Luka, you have your privacy and he has his," Carter said. 

Abby's eyes darted around the room for a second, and then the homeless man let out a louder snore. It was ignored. "Has he told you..." She stopped there, not knowing how to ask the question. "Does he tell you things?" she finally finished. 

Carter didn't want to answer that question. He guessed that was what he got for getting in the middle of those two. "Yeah, sometimes," he mumbled. 

She didn't press further. Even if she did, she knew Carter wouldn't say anything. And it was comforting to know that if she were to tell him something, he wouldn't tell Luka either. For the first time in months she felt grateful for Carter's friendship. She never really stopped on her tracks to realize how much it meant to her. 

Suddenly she felt something tickling her finger and she jumped up. "Jesus!" she snapped as she shook her hand and a worm fell on the floor. "God!"

"Whaa, whaa," the homeless man stirred in his sleep, looking around and bothered that he had been awaken from his sleep.

Carter stood up, putting the tray away. "Well, we're done here."

"When do I get a sponge bath?" the homeless man asked, scratching his hairy face. 

Abby let out a sigh. "I'll get the hose."

~*~

The more she thought about time, and the more she glanced at the watch on the wall, the slower the day went. Weaver seemed to have learned magic while she was gone, because just when she thought she was alone in a room, all of a sudden Kerry magically appeared, making sure Abby was sticking to minor cases. How this woman managed to run an emergency department and still have time to check on her employees individually every five minutes mesmerized Abby. 

She opened the door to the cafeteria, immediately perceiving the smell of bland food. She approached the line as she looked around the room, her eyes searching for someone she might know. Chuny and Haleh waved her over and Abby smiled, grabbing an apple, a turkey sandwich and a diet coke and paying the cash register. 

"We saved you a seat," Chuny said, putting her things aside. 

"Yeah, right," Abby said, all of a sudden having a high school flashback. 

"I heard Weaver was on your back," Haleh said, playing with the straw of her drink. 

"Isn't she on everyone's back?" Abby asked. 

"I heard she likes you the most," Chuny said. 

"And with the latest rumors flying around..." Haleh said playfully. 

Abby looked up. "Don't start..." she looked down, frowned, and then looked up again. "What rumors?"

"You haven't heard?" Chuny asked, like a school girl. 

"No, what happened?" Abby asked. 

"Weaver went through the other door," Haleh said with a mischievous smile. 

"Oh, come on," Abby said skeptically. 

"That's old news. The new news is that she's dating Coburn," Chuny added. 

"What?!" Abby laughed. "Now you're making things up."

"It's true, ask Randi," Haleh said. "She saw them at a gay bar the other night."

"And what was Randi doing at a gay bar?" Abby asked. 

"I don't know," Chuny explained. 

As the nurse continued to give out the details of Kerry's fictional affair, Abby looked around the cafeteria. The place was always crowded at noon, no matter how bad the food was, but there, in a corner of the room, she saw Luka. She stared as he read a chart, concentrating hard on the information on it. He seemed to be oblivious to everything and everyone around him, including the remaining of the food in front of him. She wondered where he had been all day. Did he know she would be coming back to work so decided to do paper work instead? Delusional, maybe, but she wouldn't put it past Luka. All of a sudden another doctor approached, asking if the chair next to him was available. Luka came out of his thoughts and immediately picked up his trash, getting up and dumping the tray on a near trash can. As he turned around, he saw her sitting there, and Abby immediately lowered her eyes. She felt as he stared at her for several more seconds. As soon as she looked up, he looked down, and walked away. 

"... and Coburn has been down in the ER five times today," Chuny finished her story, nudging Abby's arm. 

Abby jumped and turned towards Chuny as if she was a stranger. "What?"

Chuny shook her head. "Never mind."

"Don't worry, he's not dating anyone else," Haleh said. 

"Who?" Abby asked. 

"Dr. Kovac," Chuny said. "We heard what happened."

Abby let out a sigh, gathering her uneaten food. "Do you know everything that happens in the ER?"

"We know everything that happens in the hospital," Haleh explained. 

"Well... give it a rest," Abby said a little angrily as she stood up and dumped her food into a trash can. She felt as the nurses' eyes followed her out of the room and Abby immediately walked out of the cafeteria and out to fresh air on the back alley. Her hand reached into her pocket and she took out a pack of cigarettes. 

This was useless. All that hard work, all those hours of torture and pain only to come home to more pain. So many of her friends in rehab were so happy about recovering and going home to their families. All of them were ecstatic as they announced they were going to be able to go home. She wondered if those people were feeling the way she felt right now. She wondered if they were questioning their recovery, their lives, their decisions. She wondered if they felt out of place, out of character, if they belonged. Her thoughts wandered to Ben. She wondered if he had been discharged, if he had relapsed already, if he had gone to see his children. 

So many of those people had children. Visitation hours were filled with children laughs and screams as they ran to meet their mothers or fathers. Abby only watched from her seat, knowing that even though those children were happy to see their parents, their childhoods were ruined. They'd grow up like her, second guessing every minute of their existence, wondering who was out to hurt them and who was out to stab them in the back. Pulling back every time they felt tears, or anger, or disappointment... every time they felt love.

"Hey," Carter frowned as he stepped out for a minute to see if it was raining and saw her there. 

Abby didn't say anything, but took a poof of her smoke and let it out slowly. 

"Are you okay?"

Sweet mother of God, what did she have to do to make people stop asking that question?

"Yeah," Abby said, staring straight ahead at the huge trash cans that stood at the end of the alley. 

"Do you wanna go home? I can talk to Weaver," Carter asked, holding the door in place.

"No," Abby said immediately, throwing the cigarette away. There went her only minute of peace. 

She adjusted the stethoscope around her neck, giving Carter one of her best fake smiles. He opened the door wider and she walked pass him, hearing as the heavy door snapped back into place, sending an echo of chills down her spine.

~*~

She tried to remind herself not to look at the clock on the wall. Maybe if she disregarded the notion of time, it would slip away faster than it was supposed to. The waiting area was filled with people who seemed to be perfectly fine. Some of them were holding kitchen towels against a limb, but she wouldn't see any blood. That was the bad thing about Spring, people seemed to be more appreciative about doctors. 

But it had also been a quiet day. Despite the sirens blaring, the babies crying, the machines beeping and Weaver shouting, it had seemed like the sound was off. Maybe she just didn't talk enough. The nurses kept gossiping about Kerry and Janet, and Abby simply had to roll her eyes at the idea. She had worked under Coburn for almost 10 years and a lesbian she was not. She seemed like one, acted like one, but come on. She decided to let the nurses have their fun anyway. Live and let live. 

"Kerry."

She heard the raspy voice of Luka and she remained still, pretending to review an empty chart in her hands. 

"Luka, are you done?" Kerry asked. 

"Not yet," Luka said. "Dr. Petal is not in his office, I need a confirmation."

"And I need those charts ready today."

Kerry's voice seemed angry. Not her usual angry, when she came into the ER and everyone ran for hiding. Angry at Luka. For what? Well, Abby knew. But she wondered if Luka had done something today. She wondered if doing charts was his punishment for doing something. 

"I know, I need his page number," Luka added, his voice sounding stressed and awkward. 

"Look on the computer," Kerry said, and Abby heard the metallic sound her brace created as she walked away. 

Abby tried to look behind her shoulder, but she knew Luka was standing there, and she didn't want to create another tense moment. All of a sudden he entered her peripheral vision as he sat on a stool in front of the computer. She could tell he was tired by the way his shoulders were hunched over, but her eyes returned to the chart in front of her, empty as it was. She heard him mutter a couple of things, and as she put the chart down, she walked over tentatively, and hit the Enter button for him. 

The computer let out a beep of approval, and Luka barely looked up at her as he let out a, "Thanks."

"Yeah," Abby said as she grabbed her chart and started to write something in it. 

As Luka typed Dr. Patel's name, his feet began to tap against the leg of the stool and he finally just shook his head. "How's your day been?"

Abby looked up and at him, as if he was speaking in a different language. "Good," she smiled. "Sticking it to minors."

Luka actually relaxed a little, but not enough. He was about to offer his assistance if needed, but then remembered that Abby never accepted his help, no matter how much she needed it. So he returned to his search, and after writing the number down on a post it note, he stood up and simply walked away. 

Abby was about to say something, call him back, but he was too far away now. Any attempt would cause a scene, throw more fuel into the nurses' gossip bonfire. What a mess. 

"Abby, IV change in exam 2," Kerry said as she whisked by. 

Abby nodded, looking towards Luka's direction, but decided to follow Kerry instead. "Dr. Weaver," she said as she caught up. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"A second," Kerry said. 

Abby scanned through her mind for the one question which would cover all the information she needed. "Um, it's about Luka, Dr. Kovac..." she shook her head. "Luka."

"What about it?" Kerry asked, still walking and reading a chart at the same time. 

"Is he on some kind of probation, or something?" Abby asked. 

Kerry looked back for a brief second and returned to her chart. "No, why?"

"Well, he's not usually doing charts all day," Abby tried to make light of the situation by chuckling slightly.

"We're slow, he can afford it," Kerry replied. 

"Right," Abby said but kept following. "Dr. Weaver, I know that what happened wasn't very, well, appropriate?"

"Abby," Kerry interrupted. "This has nothing to do with what happened two weeks ago, Luka volunteered to do the charts and even if it was some kind of punishment, I really don't have the right to discuss it with you."

Abby recoiled at the blow, but continued. "I just wanted to let you know that Luka's reaction... well, it was my fault, not his..."

"Abby," Kerry finally stopped walking. "This is between Luka and the administration."

Abby watched helplessly as Kerry walked away as if nothing had happened, reading off her chart. Letting out a sigh of disappointment, she simply turned around and headed towards the desk. She couldn't fix her life, she couldn't fix others. One day at a time. That's not very comforting when said days brought nothing but hurt and disappointments. 

~*~

"Forget your troubles come on get happy! We're gonna scare all your cares away," a woman sang as Abby tried to hold her steady. "Shout hallelujah, come on, get happy!" She suddenly stopped with a couple of giggles. "Did you know Judy Garland?"

Abby smiled. "No, can't say I did."

"I did," the woman grinned. "Those songs? I wrote them all. Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high," she began to sing again. "There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby."

"That's... nice," Abby said. All of a sudden the door opened and she looked back to see Luka with a chart on his hand. Great, he chooses this moment to start working again. 

"She's back?" he mumbled as he checked the chart one more time. 

"I think she just wandered out," Abby replied, looking down at the woman, who kept humming to herself. 

Luka put the chart down, feeling the awkwardness making the air around the room dense. "Mrs. Morris, where's your nurse?" he asked as he sat down on a stool, analyzing the small cut on her arm carefully. 

"Somewhere, over the rainbow," the woman giggled. 

Abby rolled her eyes. What she wouldn't give to be somewhere over the rainbow. She'd take those flying monkeys over her life any day. Mrs. Morris now began to sing a slow ballad, and Abby looked at Luka as he put his gloves on. It was as if Mrs. Morris wasn't even there. It made her nervous and too stressed. "Do you need me here?"

Luka looked up for a moment, not knowing what to say, and then finally replied. "Um, no, go ahead."

Abby nodded and walked out of the room, wondering if there was a spot available at Mercy or some other hospital. 

As she glanced at the clock of a computer on the desk, she realized her day was almost over. All these people around her, she wondered how they were able to go through the day without a drink. It was what she had been thinking about all day. Her need for a drink had never been as overwhelming as this. The first time around, she was able to get her thoughts together, think of one or more incentives, and pull through. Now, she had no med school, no marriage to save, nothing to salvage. 

"Abby," Kerry called once more as she walked over. "If you wanna go home, go ahead."

Abby was about to protest, but her body eased instead. "You sure you don't need me around here?"

"We got it covered," Kerry said. "Go home."

Go home. Weaver language for, 'Your job is in jeopardy, so get yourself together or you're fired'. She examined her boss' features as she grabbed another chart and went back to work, and Abby simply ripped her tag from her jacket and dropped it in her pocket. 

As she got her things together, her thoughts wandered to her earlier musings. Maybe she should find a reason to do this. Maybe she should go back to med school to keep her thoughts off from alcohol and Luka. She needed to keep moving, to keep her mind busy. 

She walked out, and as she held on to her bag tightly, she couldn't feel her day was over. She needed to talk to Luka desperately, but he was busy with a patient. It was a sudden drive she had never felt until now, and she wondered if it was her own mind trying to tell her this was the right step, making things better, telling her it was her fault and it was her job to fix it. 

But she didn't know what to say. 

So she walked out, glancing at her watch and knowing she could at least make it to a meeting. 

Without even going home to change, she made her way through the old building and opened a door with a paper taped to it reading "AA". The meeting was already in progress, and a couple of people looked her way, giving her a smile. She smiled back, and sat on the back. A couple of people turned her way to say hello, and she regarded them all with the same smile. Finally, without even knowing why or how, the man stopped talking and she raised her arm. He smiled, and invited her over. As if it was an out of body experience, Abby watched herself as she made her way up the room, and an uncomfortable silence made her stomach hurt. 

When she reached the podium, she caressed the wood with the tip of her fingers, looking at the path they took, remembering all the times she had done this before. 

"Uh, my name is Abby, and I'm an alcoholic."

And said those words. Everyone said hi, and she smiled, an encouragement to continue. She kept looking down at the papers resting on the podium, all announcements the speaker would make later. 

"I know you've been wondering where I've been these past several months." She finally looked up, with a smile everyone knew wasn't genuine. "Well, um, I guess I have bad news." She felt as some people shifted on their seats, a reaction to news they already knew. "Um," she continued. "I, uh, I relapsed a couple of months ago." The silence continued. "I, uh, I don't really know why, or," she chuckled, "Or even when, it's, I'm not gonna... blame it on work, or my boyfriend, or my mother..." She took a deep breath, and continued. "But it still hurts, because I never thought this was gonna happen. I always thought that was it, you know? The nightmare was over and I was so proud. And when new people came through that door, I never thought that would be me again. And when other people needed help, it made me happy to know I could help them, because I had done it, I, uh, I had recovered."

She felt a lump in her throat, and it was eased when her eyes became a little moist. But it was okay. This was the only place where she allowed herself to cry. No matter how bad her day was, how awful her life had been, there was always one or two people whose lives had been ten times more screwed up than hers. She felt at peace, even though she was the messenger of bad news. This was probably the only place on earth she could call home, an old classroom with a bunch of people who couldn't keep their lives together. That was her family.

"Well, I guess I screwed up again." No one said anything, no one moved, all eyes were kept on her, and even though she didn't know what she was trying to communicate, she continued. "Today I was at work, and I realized that, God, I really want a drink again. I, I can't think, I can't work," she let out a sigh. "I've been avoiding coming here, because it's just... excruciating. I used to sit there, feeling the glory of being congratulated, of seeing people smile when I said I had been sober for another day." She took a moment to look away at a poster taped almost all the way near the ceiling, her fingers clearing a stationary tear in her eye. Her mood changed from sadness to anger. "I, um, when I treated a drunk patient I used to think he or she was below me, that I was better than them. And now I just... I hate myself, I **hate **myself for being so weak, and for avoiding you, and everyone else in my life, and for thinking it was over, and for thinking I was better, and for screwing up. And I don't know what I hate the most, the fact that I relapsed, the fact that I let you all down, or the fact that right now I can't really say I'm gonna be okay. I'm not okay right now, and I hate that."

She lingered there for a while, and then after finding herself speechless, she just walked away and sat on her chair again. A woman next to her patted her arm, and Abby only heard as the man in the podium began to talk about how much she could count on them, how they supported her and how they didn't judge her. They didn't judge her. No matter where the words came from, it was always music to her ears.

A woman in front of her turned around with a smile. "Welcome home."

Abby smiled, through her drying tears. "Thanks, Cass."

"Do you need a sponsor?"

Abby chuckled. "Very much."

~*~

The headache was almost over. She had been walking around the city, thinking about her plans, her new sponsor, thinking about step two. Was there really someone out there looking out for her? If there was, he or she must be painfully blind. If she wasn't ready to admit there was a God, how on earth would she make it to step 12?

Abby stood outside of the hotel as little yellow lights decorated the edges of the building. It really wasn't Christmas, but she guessed hotels did that to attract more tenants. As she took a deep breath, she felt butterflies flying quickly all over her stomach, making her almost nauseous. Well, more like vultures. 

"Can I help you with your luggage?" a man suddenly walked up to her, dressed in a tight burgundy suit and wearing white gloves. 

Abby looked at him, and then around her, realizing she had been standing next to a family's luggage as they kept taking things out of their car. "No, this isn't mine, sorry," she said quickly and adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she walked into the hotel. 

This place was always crowded, whether it was tourist season or not. It was one of those hotels which had a small bar, and a small casino inside. She never really knew how Luka could live in a place like this. The place was a lot of things, but it wasn't a home. 

She got on the elevator and waited as it took her to the 12th floor. The music was distracting her somewhat from her thoughts, but at the same time torturing her with its tackiness. The elevator stopped, and an Asian couple with cameras around their necks got inside. 

"Oh, this is going up," Abby said, but quickly realized they didn't speak English. "Up?" she said as she pointed her finger towards the ceiling.

"Yes, up," the woman said with a huge smile on her face. 

Abby decided to let it go, and just heard as the couple whispered to each other in Chinese, or Japanese, or Esperanto, she never knew. With a ding, the elevator stopped on the 12th floor and she drew in a big breath as she walked outside. 

"Up!" the Asian woman said with a smile and a wave, and Abby returned the smile with a, "Good night."

All of a sudden she was alone in the cold hallway of Luka's floor. She hated this place. She hated that it was always so cold, and the hallways so quiet, hurting your ears because of the altitude. She hated that is smelled like cheap carpet cleaner, and you never really could have someone you could call a next door neighbor. As she stood there she considered going home, and maybe just calling him on the phone, but she knew that was just another way to escape her problems. Step 9, step 9. She wasn't even on step 3, but this night she had to remind herself of step 9. Even if Luka had nothing to do with her recovery, this night she could use step 9 to remind her that she would have to do this sooner or later.

So she walked down the hall, putting her thoughts aside. Then she finally found herself in front of his door, and without hesitation, she knocked on it a couple of times, and waited. A couple walked past her. Was it couples night in this place? She knocked on Luka's door again, and waited some more. As she looked around, she thought that maybe he wasn't home, maybe he had been called to attend a patient. She knocked again, and looked at her watch. 

Suddenly the door opened, but Abby frowned, looking at a small Mexican woman who was dragging a cleaning cart. 

"Finish," she asked in a heavy accent, opening the door for Abby. 

"Uh, is Dr. Kovac there?" Abby asked, glancing discreetly inside. 

"Dr. Kovac, no," the woman said. "I clean."

"Yeah," Abby sighed. "Do you know where he is?" she asked, thinking that if she over pronounced every word, the woman would somehow understand her better. She really needed to learn a second language.

"I clean," the woman repeated. "Dr. Kovac... he... uh... drink," she said as she pointed downstairs.

"He's in the bar?" Abby asked. 

"Yes, bar," the woman said excited as she nodded up and down. 

Abby smiled. "Thank you."

She heard as the woman kept dragging the cart into another room, and once more, Abby walked around the hallway and got on the elevator again.

"Up," the same Asian woman smiled as she saw Abby, who walked inside and pushed the already lightened L button. 

"Hey," Abby greeted once more. Well, if she didn't get anything out of this night, at least she could go home knowing she had made two elevator friends. She smiled at the couple and then looked down as she felt their eyes on her. She hated being on elevators with people. It never mattered if music was playing or not, there was always an awkward silence she detested. The couple kept whispering, and she wondered why, because it wasn't like she would understand what they were saying anyway. Then finally there was a ding and Abby let them walk out first. The man and the woman waved goodbye as they walked towards the exit doors, and Abby responded with her fake smile. Once they were out of sight, she turned towards the bar. 

The bar, just what she needed at that moment. She contemplated between walking in, or having someone go in and get Luka for her. She looked inside, and could easily spot him at the bar, talking to a man next to him. He was drinking something yellowish in a short glass. He suddenly let out a laugh as the man next to him said something, and she realized they weren't speaking in English. Chicago had never seen as diverse as tonight.

As she walked in, she looked around the bar. It was loud and there were waitresses with short skirts walking around with trays in their hands. She let out a sigh and walked straight towards the bar.

"Luka," she called out as she stopped walking when she was facing his back. 

Luka turned around, and his smile quickly disappeared. Luka's friend nudged Luka's arm with a huge grin. 

"Can I talk to you?" Abby asked, her voice fighting with the noise of the bar. 

Luka looked doubtful and without saying anything, he reached into his pocket. His friend said something Abby couldn't understand, but she figured he offered to pay the bill, because Luka patted him in the shoulder a couple of times and gulped the rest of his drink down. Suddenly he realized they were in a bar, so he rested his hand on her back as he guided her outside. 

As they walked around aimlessly, he really didn't know what to say. He was beginning to feel nervous, wishing he was out of this earth. He looked around the crowded lobby and then down at Abby. "Do you... wanna go somewhere?"

"I don't know," Abby said as she played with her fingers. 

"Are you hungry?" Luka asked. 

"Um, not really," Abby said, shaking her head.

Luka just nodded, and opened the doors to the hotel to let them both out. Abby started to walk down the sidewalk and he followed, and between them an uncomfortable silence that was killing Luka inside. 

"So," he started, looking around the passing cars. 

Abby cleared her throat. She hated this. She hated admitting she was wrong. She hated saying she was sorry. She hated talking about her weaknesses with Luka. She hated that she had weaknesses. She just hated this moment. So she tried to use that hate as an incentive. 

"Um," she started. "I just..." Damn, why didn't she write this down before coming over? "I wanted to apologize... for what happened," she finally said as she tried to avoid his eyes. Thank God they were walking beside each other and not meeting face to face in some restaurant. 

Luka slipped his hands into his pockets, still not knowing what to say. Apology accepted? Not really, he was still mad at her. Forget about it? Not really, because the fight was still playing vividly in his mind. It's not your fault? Not really. As much as he wanted to believe that, it was far from the truth. 

"It was my fault," she continued. "And I know you were right, I guess I just, I do that sometimes."

Luka let out a quiet breath, knowing she was apologizing mostly because she had to. That just made his earlier decision much better. His hand grabbed and snapped a small leave from a tree he passed, that would at least give him something to play with, distract him a little. "Look, Abby," he started, feeling her eyes on him for a brief second. "I care about you, more than you can imagine, but I feel like I'm not making things better."

Abby stopped walking immediately, feeling her stomach sink. The words were in her mouth, but she couldn't dare to say them. A car sped up far away, letting out a loud screech, and she looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you breaking up with me?" she asked, half incredulous, half hurt.

Luka stopped as well, looking at her. "No." He looked around, not knowing how he continued to breathe on his own after these thoughts he was having. "I don't know," he repeated quietly.

Abby closed her eyes hard, and dropped her head. Well, this was worst than she could have possibly imagined, worst than him not forgiving her. "Luka..." 

"Abby..." he interrupted. "I just want you to get better, and us fighting is not going to help. I went to those meetings and they said..."

"What meetings?" Abby asked, looking for his stare, but he kept looking around. 

"Those, friends and family of alcoholics, and they said..."

"What were you doing there?" Abby asked, the small anger in her previous sentence no longer there. 

"Carter thought it would help," Luka said, staring at her for a second, and then looking away. "Abby, you're right, I don't know what it's like being an alcoholic, or a drug addict. And maybe I don't know how to take care of one, so maybe it would be better for you if we took a break."

The anger was back. Abby let out a sigh, looking as a group of tourists got on a bus and a guide began to talk on a microphone. "So that's your decision to make?" she asked in an accusatory way. 

"Maybe," Luka said. 

Abby looked at him immediately. If looks could kill, Luka would be seven feet under. She began to walk away, feeling as if she didn't walk this anger away, she would explode.

Luka followed. "Abby, you know this is better."

"No, I don't, Luka!" Abby snapped, and stopped walking once more. "Do you even care about what I want? Or what I feel is best for me?"

Luka stopped, putting his hands on his pockets. 

"No," Abby said. "I'm not crippled, or handicapped, or some stupid moron..."

"Abby, I'm doing this because I care about you, and I want you to get better," Luka said. 

"If that were true you wouldn't be leaving me out in the cold," Abby replied. 

"I'm not bailing out on you, Abby," Luka said. "I just..." he let out a sigh of frustration, not being able to put his thoughts into words. He finally realized he'd have to be honest if he wanted her to understand. "Abby..." he started again, but the angry look on her face made him stop. Finally, taking a deep breath, he decided to fix this mess, eloquently or not. 

"Abby, I love you." He watched as a parade of overwhelming emotions flashed through her face, and he looked down. This was certainly **not **how he had imagined telling her, not under these circumstances. "I'm not leaving you in the cold, Abby, I care about you. But I don't want to be the reason why you relapse, I don't want that to happen again."

Abby looked down, playing with a ring on her index finger. Well, if this wasn't an emotional day, then she didn't even want to think about what one felt like. She started low, only to go high, and now she was low again. She wondered what came after that. 

"Abby," Luka said, staring at the top of her head. "Say something."

Abby only looked to the side watching as the bus of tourists faded away. God she needed a cigarette. She needed a drink.

"Abby?" Luka asked again. 

"What do you want me to say, Luka?" she finally said. "Wow, this is great? Or take it with a smile? Or fine see you at work?" 

"No," Luka replied. "I want you to try to understand why I'm doing this."

Abby let her arms fall to her side in frustration. "See, that's the problem, Luka, I can't."

"Abby, I went to those meetings, and they said it's better not to be in a relationship at least a year after detox..."

"That's not every case!" Abby interrupted.

"Abby we're not married!" Luka replied, raising his voice. "We can't communicate, you never talk to me. I can't help you if you don't let me, and you don't let me, so I don't know what to do. And that just makes me more stressed, and it makes you stressed, and you shouldn't have to worry about us right now."

Abby just shook her head, letting out a sigh. 

"We're not breaking up, Abby, we're just taking a break," Luka repeated in a lower tone, praying that she could understand, praying he could understand as well tomorrow morning.

"So why does it feel like we are?" Abby asked and looked up at him. "You think this is good for my recovery, Luka, but is it good for us?"

The through hadn't passed through Luka's mind. He really didn't feel like they had a choice. It was either this, or Abby relapsing again. He couldn't afford that. Neither could she. "I guess you have to trust me," Luka said. 

Abby just looked down. When she came over she was expecting to apologize for her mistake, and hoping Luka would forgive her. She was sure he would forgive her. She knew Luka would, he always did. 

"Well," she said as she balanced herself in her feet. "I guess since I don't have a say..."

"You do have a say," Luka said. "I just want you to be selfish for now."

Abby looked up at him, but only briefly. She looked down at the her new pack of cigarettes peeking through the contents of her purse. God she needed to light one. "So now what?"

Luka let his hands massage his face for a moment, making him feel a little better. Until he opened his eyes. He touched her arm tentatively, but she didn't pull away. "Just, take it easy, and call me if you need anything, and talk to me at work."

Abby just shook her head. "Night, Luka." She didn't even let one second pass before she dug into her purse and took out her cigarettes. She didn't know if Luka was still standing there, but that didn't seem to matter as she took a poof and felt the nicotine relax her muscles a little. 

Her bed. She desperately needed to be in her bed right now. She wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out. She thought that maybe Luka could be a reason for her to recover, but now he had bailed out. But didn't he say he loved her? He had never said that before, never even insinuated it. As hopeful as it was, it also kept reminding her of the night her father left. He had also said that he loved her. He had said that this separation was temporary, that he would talk to a lawyer and they would be together again, together forever. But he had lied. Well, he didn't lie, it just didn't happen, it fell through the cracks. Hadn't Maggie said repeatedly that she loved her also? Didn't her brother? Didn't Richard? The more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself that she really did was a Pigweed. Get close, learn to love it, die by it. 

Her apartment was cold, even thought the night had seemed warm. As she let her sheets cover her body, she began to wonder if this was really right. The first time around it hadn't felt this bad, this lonely, this hopeless. Even though she was lonely, and the situation was bad, and everything should have been hopeless, she was able to pull through. And she was still stuck on step two. 

"I love you, I care about you, I want you to get better, I love you." 

Words that would not let her close her eyes and get some sleep. As much as she wanted to believe Luka was right, as much as she wanted it to be true that what he was doing was okay, she felt like she was walking into the darkness. She couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel, could only yearn for that which she knew would destroy her forever. She couldn't let it happen again, but letting it happen seemed like the only way she could escape from this abyss, the only way the darkness would disappear. 

"Call me if you need anything, talk to me at work, I'll still be here if you need me."

Words. Just words. Words that were taken away by the wind and disappeared into the dark clouds. She rolled away from the light, and covered herself head to toe with her sheets, allowing the darkness to take over. 

To be continued...


	17. 24 Steps: Part 17

Disclaimer: None of the ER characters belong to me. But, mine don't belong to them, so there. 

Author's notes: So much for this being the last chapter, huh? I guess I just love pain. I have no clue when this story is going to be over. Let's say, oh, July of 2043. Mark your calendars.

"24 Steps: Part 17" by Carolina

"I don't really know what I'm doing here."

"That's ok."

"I just saw you downstairs and before I knew it..."

"It, it doesn't matter."

"I guess not."

"But I'm glad you're here."

"Thank you."

"You know I've always been here if you needed to talk, always."

"I know... I'm sorry it took me so long."

"You're here now."

"I'm here now."

"So what's on your mind?"

"... I just, uh, I don't know."

"Don't be nervous."

"Yeah... well I've never done this before."

"Never?"

"No... why?"

"Just wondering. How's work?"

"Eh, you know."

"Yeah."

"Actually, it's not work what's been bothering me lately."

"Your mother?"

"Huh?"

"How's your mother?"

"Oh, um, she's ok. Actually, she's getting married."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Does that bother you?"

"Uh, I don't, I really... maybe a little."

"Why?"

"... I, uh, I don't know. She's... Maggie."

"Right."

"Maggie doesn't get herself together, ever."

"Maybe it's time."

"Right, she's just gonna get married and live happily ever after."

"What does that mean?"

Abby let out a sigh and looked to the side, watching as an airplane flew close by. She followed it with her eyes, until all of a sudden, it was gone. The clouds engulfed it in a mantle of whiteness, eating it whole. 

"Well, she's, sh-- she just... forget it."

DeRaad kept looking at her intensely, probing deep into her with his eyes. The pad resting on his lap held blank papers, and the pen on his hand simply kept tapping the side of his leg, over and over. He gave her a couple of seconds to continue, but she only continued to look out the window. 

"Do you feel like maybe she didn't get herself together for you but she did for a man?"

Abby shook her head, but not in a replying manner. She looked down at her chipped nails and tried to hide them with her fingers. Mental note: get a manicure. Then she frowned, and looked past DeRaad. "That's kinda selfish."

"No it's not, it's a perfectly rational human emotion."

"I, I mean, I don't know. I guess it's fine, I don't really care," she sank lower in her seat. 

"Ok," DeRaad said, still looking at her, but not pushing in any way. He wrote a couple of things on his pad quickly and looked up at her again. "But other than that, do you feel happy for her?"

Abby let out a sigh, as if the questions were an annoyance. She looked out the crystal window once more, but the sky was empty. "She says she's happy," she said, avoiding the question.

"Good, good for her."

"Yeah," Abby said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

"You said work wasn't bothering you so much. What is?" DeRaad asked, looking at the three single words written on his pad 'Distanced and Removed'. He awaited for her to prove his theory right, and to what degree. 

"I told you I don't know," Abby said, almost irritated. 

"When you saw me downstairs, what went through your mind?" he asked. 

Abby kept avoiding eye contact, knowing this was a bad idea, not to mention the biggest embarrassment she had felt in a long time. When you saw me downstairs, what went through your mind?"

"Richard."

"Richard?" DeRaad asked, writing the name down. 

"My ex husband," Abby mumbled, peeling layers of her nails away. 

After writing that down, DeRaad looked up. "What made you think of him?"

Abby let out another sigh. At that rate she'd walk out of there breathless. "I don't know, he used to say I should talk to someone."

"A therapist?" he asked. 

"Who else?"

DeRaad waited once more, but she didn't continue. "Was there a specific reason for him to feel that way?"

Abby shook her head, a sarcastic smile taking over her face. "I don't know, he thought I was miserable."

"Are you?"

She looked at him for the first time, but not for long. Her index finger had turned red, the nail almost completely gone. She pressed on it hard, and a small dot of blood appeared. She continued to play with it. 

"Not particularly," Abby replied. 

He shifted on his seat, indicating a change in the conversation. "I heard you were in rehab recently."

Abby didn't react. "Yeah."

"What happened?"

"I relapsed," Abby said with a chuckle, making it clearly evident.

"You had been sober for... 5 years?"

"Yeah."

"Anything happened?" he asked, trying to touch this topic only slightly on the surface, then go deep into it later.

"Not really," Abby said as she played with her ID card. "I guess you can call it a fluke."

"I don't believe in flukes," DeRaad said. 

"Too bad," Abby said. 

He ignored that. "When did this happen?"

Abby's math abilities were faulting her, and she just shrugged her shoulders. "Couple months ago."

"After your mother left?"

Abby smiled sourly. Everything just had to be about Maggie. Everyone always assumed her life was a mess because her mother happened to be sick. Maggie and Abby; Abby and Maggie. She left her house years ago because she wanted to stop that, cut those ties. But it was useless. Sometimes she wondered if people thought of her as more than the daughter of a Bipolar woman. 

"Ok," DeRaad said when she didn't continue. "Are you going to meetings? Got a sponsor?"

"Check and check," Abby said. 

"Is this part of the reason why you're here?" he asked. 

"What do you mean?"

"Well, something like that can affect your life greatly. Job? Friends? Family?"

"I- I- I wouldn't say greatly," Abby said nervously, shaking her foot a little faster.

"How did it affect you?"

She pressed her lips together, knowing it would be like this. She wished there was a thrown over the couch she could use to cover her face. Maybe if he turned his chair around, she wouldn't have to see him, face to face. But she had to do this. She had once scheduled an appointment with him years ago, while she was still working in OB. But when the time came, she couldn't even get on the elevator. Things went downhill, and a little after that, she found out Richard had been cheating on her. He was right. She had always been miserable. She was sick of it, of waking up in the morning in a bad mood, and going to bed tired, exhausted, and void. It drove everyone out of her life, her family, her friends, and now Luka. She didn't want to die alone.

"You know," she started. "I guess... I thought I had it all together, and I was wrong."

DeRaad smiled. "Sometimes it's harder to accept we were wrong about something, especially when we're stubborn."

"Yeah," Abby smiled. "It's ok, though. Project."

"Personally, I find art much more appealing," he said. 

"Yeah, but then you don't get to go through steps," she joked, feeling just a little better now that they had chuckled together. She cleared her throat, and looked discreetly at her watch. 

"You wanna stop here?" DeRaad asked, detecting her discomfort.

"I just... sorry, I..." she stammered.

"It's ok, we did well," he said as he reached for his planner. "You wanna make another appointment?"

Abby looked away. Seeing a therapist, this is what her life had come to. She knew people who went to therapy often, they were always talking about their sessions, saying how great their doctors were, how much it had helped their lives... didn't seem like something she could do. Isn't seeing a therapist the same as saying, "I can't deal with my life. Here, you put it together." And what would people think when they found out? First a relapse, now therapy. She used to think she was a strong person. She just didn't know anymore.

"Yeah, um, next week?" she stroked the sides of her chair and stood up.

"Great, see you next week." 

~*~

It was a very weird morning. Not weird as in the sun was still not out, or the garbage truck was outside making noises. Weird as in awkward, as in something felt different. Well, of course something was different. Luka and her were no more. In Luka's mind, they were taking a break. But how can a couple just take a break and not entirely break up? How was that possible? How were they to react around each other? Were they still allowed to kiss? Hold hands? Spend time together? Sometimes when an umpire calls time out, the players keep throwing balls at each other, practicing, warming up. The idea made her not only upset, but confused. 

She hadn't talked to him since that night, because he had had two days off in a row. She hadn't called him and he hadn't called her. It was better that way. If they weren't a couple anymore, technically or not, it would be best to set some distance. 

She had to admit that her stubbornness had somehow diminished with her relapse. She didn't know if it was the meetings, or the recovery per se, but she did feel a little more willing, less of a pain in the ass, as she had been called often. As much as she hated to admit it, Luka was right in some of his points. And even if he wasn't, well at least he wouldn't be around if things went downhill for her again. 

Everyone at work was leaving her in peace as well. She didn't know if they gossiped or not, but hardly anyone asked her if she was ok, or if she needed to talk. It was nice to know that no one pretended to care around here. Maybe they didn't, that was even better. 

"Hey, how's my favorite nurse?"

Abby looked back to see Dave walking into the room. Why did he always have that goofy smile on his face? He looked like one of those men who waited outside high schools with telescopes and a box of donuts, checking out the young girls. 

"Favorite," Abby replied skeptically. "You mean nurse of the week, or?"

Dave smiled. "I have a heart, Abby."

Abby shook her head and put on her jacket. 

"You look good," Dave said in a cheery note.

Abby looked at him, a surprised yet amused look on her face. 

"Yeah, you look healthy," Dave continued, bopping his head, as if he was hearing a tune.

It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. "Thank you, Dave."

Dave winked, grabbed his backpack from his locker and walked out of the lounge. 

So did Abby, but in a different direction. 

Sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like if she did something else, painting, music, architecture. Every day she walked into the ER and every day the same people were standing in the same place, saying the same things, treating the same patients, over and over. It was hard to differentiate the Mondays from the Fridays, the Junes from the Augusts. It was a nice day, but she had to stay inside. It was another discovery about herself. Lately she somehow had been feeling the urge to be outside, under the sun. When she was little and she got sick, her father used to tell her that if she laid under the sun for a while, she'd feel better. She wondered if that worked only for flues and colds. 

Mark was eating a donut as he read a chart, oblivious to everyone around him. How he was able to eat while seeing patients was beyond her. Sometimes he'd eat while a trauma came in, blood dripping everywhere, guts all over the place. It was fascinating. She had a pretty strong stomach, but she could never eat a lasagna as she stood over the opened body of a gunned man. 

"Abby," he called as he looked up for a moment and saw her staring at him. 

She shook her head quickly. "Yeah."

"Wanna help me with this headache?"

"Sure," Abby said as she pinned her ID card to the pocket of his jacket and followed him into an exam room, where there was a young man, reading from a physics book. 

Too bad. Usually these were the bad cases. A woman who was 98 years old and had lived everything she had to live would come in with a headache, doctors would give her Tylenol and she would go home as if nothing had happened. A young boy who came in with a headache, fresh from his mother's womb, with a future ahead, usually had a brain aneurysm and died right in front of them. Life was like that sometimes. 

She watched as Mark gave the kid the bad news. If she had a journal for patient's reactions, she'd find the same pattern. Confusion, denial, acceptance, and emotional destruction. Brian would have to stay overnight for observation, and would probably miss his finals, setting him back. She dropped his chart on the rack, and watched as Carter and Luka walked out of the lounge, in deep conversation. When they reached the admit desk, Carter said hello, and Luka gave her a smile. She returned both, and moved over the computer. 

"Abby," Randi called out as she hung up the phone. "DeRaad wants you to call him back, something about seeing you earlier."

Abby grabbed the piece of paper with the message quickly and put it in her pocket. "Thanks."

"DeRaad?" Luka asked as he moved closer, as if they were sharing a secret. 

Abby looked up with a clean cut face. "Maggie needs her chart for her new therapist."

"Oh," Luka said casually. "How've you been?"

"Good," she said quickly, starting to walk away with Luka in tow. "You?"

"I went to that flea market yesterday. Some of those things..." he made a face and continued about his adventures in the Mexican market.

It occurred to Abby that Luka seemed to understand the mechanisms of 'Taking a Break' fairly well. She was confused by the way he seemed to be making conversation so easily, as if they were friends. What was going through his mind? Was he as aware of their presence as she was? Because she was. And she was suddenly thinking it wasn't good. Surely taking a break was something she had never done before. Now that she was experiencing it, she didn't care much for it. 

"We can go sometime if you want," he finished. 

Abby stopped in front of the drug lockup, having heard nothing about his ramblings. "Luka..." She was sure she wanted to ask something, but she didn't know how to phrase it. 

He just stood there, waiting for her to say something. She saw his confused face and she just shook her head. "Forget it."

"Is everything ok?" he asked. 

"Yeah, I just..." she seemed to shrug and shudder at the same time. 

"Do you want to talk?" he asked as he leaned against the wall, watching as she looked for something inside the cabinets. 

That was probably the first time she had ever heard Luka say that. She knew the words were coming out of his mouth, but they were alien. Talking to Luka? No way. He'd think she was weak and she was sure some of the things she had done would disgust him. That was what Carter was for, right? Dump all the load on him, keep Luka on the safe zone. 

She beat herself over the head. That kind of thinking ruined her marriage. She knew she had to talk to Luka sometime. She also knew she had to do her laundry and ask for a W-2 to pay her taxes. But none of those things seemed to be coming along. 

"No, I'm fine. Some of us just don't get two days off in a row," she joked. A joke, good. Comedy can diffuse any situation easily. 

He chuckled. "It was a fluke."

"A fluke?" Abby said, amused by his use of the word. That was something he got from her, and all of a sudden she realized that they were together for a year. In that year, Luka learned things from her. He used to squeeze the toothpaste in the middle, but now he did from the end. He used to eat breakfast religiously, but now he had begun to skip some of them. She was sure that if she paid attention, she could find some things that he had rubbed on her. It was scary. Scary was an understatement. It was frightening to know you have that power over another human being. 

"So you talked to Maggie?" he continued. 

"Uh, yeah," she lied. 

"How is she?" 

Abby nodded. "Good. Uh, she says hi."

He smiled broadly at that. Well, a little white lie never hurt anyone, and it made Luka happy to know Maggie acknowledged him. She would have to tell DeRaad to call her at home and not in the ER. It was all planned for. If she could keep the first couple of sessions secret, then by the time people found out, she wouldn't be in therapy anymore. She knew it would show up on her insurance coverage, but she could keep that confidential. She still didn't know if she would tell Luka. She was sure that Danjiela never had to see a therapist for anything. 

"I have to take this to Dr. Greene," she said as she squeezed past him. 

"Ok," he watched her as she went into one of the trauma rooms. It was clear to him that she looked better, relaxed. Maybe his decision to take a break was the best one. His only worry was that he didn't know how or when to call play ball. 

~*~

"You know that for every cigarette you smoke you take 3 days from your life?" a man hissed at Abby as he walked pass her. 

Abby gasped sarcastically. "Really? Thank you, sir. You just saved my life!"

The man gave her an angry look and disappeared from her sight. 

What is it with people and minding in other's business? She didn't go around restaurants telling people to take it easy on the ribs. It made her so mad, but she shook her head and shrugged it away. While she kept taking days off her life, that man would probably walk out of his house the next day and be crushed by a falling piano. Life was like that sometimes. 

She leaned against the wall as she saw Carter walking out of Doc Magoos with his girlfriend. Right, Carter had a girlfriend now. What was her name? Gina? She seemed nice, and Carter looked like he was on cloud nine as Gina said a joke and he laughed, echoing all around the ambulance bay. When he saw her, he immediately walked over. 

"Hey," he chuckled. "Taking a break?"

"Kind of," Abby smiled. 

"Oh," Carter jumped. "You met Georgia, right?"

Georgia! Right. Abby smiled politely. "No, I don't think we've met. I'm Abby."

"Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you," Georgia said. 

"All nice things," Carter jumped in.

"I hope so," Abby said. 

"Honey, I have to go back to work," Georgia said as she turned to Carter. 

Honey?

"Ok, I'll stop by later," Carter replied, grabbed her face and gave her a kiss. 

Abby looked away. Cute displays of affection should be banned from public places. 

"Nice to meet you, Abby," Georgia waved. 

"Likewise," Abby replied. Georgia walked away and she smiled at Carter. "She's nice."

"Isn't she?" Carter asked, watching as Georgia walked up the stairs of the El station. "I mean, I didn't think it would work out, but it's going great so far."

"Good for you," Abby said. "Did you tell her..."

"No, not yet," Carter said, changing his tone. Abby gave him a knowing face. "I'll tell her soon, ok?"

"Ok," Abby said. She knew she shouldn't preach, but it felt good to give advice, knowing well that you should follow it yourself. 

"I mean, it's not like it's a big deal, it's not like I'm doing drugs now," he mumbled. 

"Well, you can tell her on your honeymoon," Abby said. 

Carter smiled, tapping on the wall with his fist. "So how've you been?"

Abby looked at him. "Just cut to the chase."

"Ok. I heard you and Luka are taking a break. Are you ok?"

Well, someone had to ask sooner or later. 

"Yeah," Abby said and turned to him suddenly. "Ok, you have to tell me what this 'break' means."

"You don't know?" Carter asked. 

"I thought I did, but I think Luka has another concept," she said. "It's like we never even dated."

Carter nodded. "Well technically it's both, it's breaking up but not really."

"Breaking up but not really," Abby repeated. 

"Yeah, I guess you break up, but you don't see other people, and then someday you get back together," Carter explained.

"You got that from _Friends_, didn't you?" Abby teased. 

Carter lowered his head. "Yeah."

Abby chuckled. "Thanks, Carter."

"Why don't you ask Luka?" 

Abby flinched her face. "I think I'll just go along with it."

"If you didn't wanna take a break, why didn't you tell him?" Carter asked, playing with one of his pens. 

"He was on a roll," Abby said. "I don't know. Maybe he's right."

"Yeah, couldn't hurt. It's not like he's going somewhere. Are you?"

Abby raised her eyebrows. "I wished."

~*~

"I don't think you ever stop wanting a drink, no matter how many years of sobriety you can muster," Abby said, this time playing with the keys of the drug lockup. "And beer is everywhere. I mean, if they could just ship us to an isolated island where there's no alcohol and we could live there forever. You know, like leper colonies. Drunken colonies, that would be great."

"Yeah, but lepers eventually come home when they heal," DeRaad said.

"You know what I mean."

DeRaad smiled. "You said you had been seeing someone for a while? Dr. Kovac?" He looked up from his notes. "Is that serious?"

Abby flinched and looked away, as if she was being forced to eat something she hated. "We're not seeing each other anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, it's..." she let her hand fall in the air. "He wanted to take a break, whatever that means."

Anspaugh scratched his brow. "It's normal for couples to take a break when one of them is recuperating from an addiction."

"Normal?"

"Well, not unheard of," he replied. 

"I don't know," she continued, looking out the window and then to her lap again. 

"You don't know or you don't wanna talk about it?"

Abby let out a sigh. "We were close, I guess. I mean, when you go out with someone for a year, I guess that may be serious. I don't know, he says he wants me to take some time for myself."

"That's a good idea," DeRaad said. 

"I don't know."

"Would you say this is a better relationship than your last?"

Abby smiled. "We're not married."

"You don't have to be married to be in a relationship."

Duh. 

Abby rolled her eyes. "Of course not." She shifted on her seat and her entire face changed completely, along with her demeanor. "Do you think that people fall out of love?"

DeRaad raised his eyebrows, surprised at the question, which seemed to come out of nowhere. "Why?"

"I asked first," Abby replied. 

"Well," he began. "I think that it's harder to fall out of love than falling **in **love. But even if you do, a little bit of that always remains."

"But if people fall out of love, maybe they weren't in love to begin with," Abby continued. 

"Not necessarily," DeRaad said. "Is there a reason why you're asking me this?"

Abby shook her head quickly, but despite her physical denial, she continued to confirm. "It's just... I don't understand why. I didn't think that our relationship meant anything to him."

"Dr. Kovac?" he asked. 

"We've never... had time to focus on it," she continued, ignoring his question. "Why would he say that he loves me?"

"Maybe it's true?" DeRaad asked, resting his right elbow on the arm rest of his chair. She shook her head in disapproval. "You don't think it is?"

Abby rubbed her knee slowly, softly, almost melancholic. "Sometimes you tell people nice things to make them feel better."

"So you don't think his feelings are real?"

Abby didn't move, her left leg resting lazily across her right. There was a long silence, all the while her mind trying to think of an answer, something quick and smart, and safe. 

She bit her lower lip, staring down at her dirty scrubs. "It just doesn't make sense," she said almost inaudibly.

He detected an ambiguous whimper in her tone, almost as if she was crying, but he couldn't see the features of her face. He knew he was getting to her, slowly, but surely. Maybe if she learned to trust him, he could unfold her and put her back together neatly. If only it was all up to him. 

"Why doesn't it make sense? People fall in love every day, it's normal."

"Well, maybe we don't have the same definition of normal," Abby looked up, but not directly at him. Her weak voice was gone, and replaced by a strong tone and hints of sarcasm. 

DeRaad drew in a big breath as he reached with his right hand into his book case and took out a dictionary.

"Oh, come on," Abby said sarcastically. 

"Normal," DeRaad started as he cleared his throat and put on his reading glasses. "As defined by the Oxford Dictionary: conforming to a standard; regular; usual; typical." He closed the book with a loud thud. "So what's yours?"

She had never felt this overwhelming power to shoot someone before. Maybe that Jung sculpture was sharp enough to leave a nice laceration. But she decided to play his game. "Normal, as defined by the Abby Dictionary: something that never happens; irregular; unusual; atypical."

DeRaad chuckled. "We don't have to talk about this if you don't feel comfortable."

Abby shook her head. "Sorry, I just don't see what Luka has to do with any of this," she said, smiling, as if it was a smart joke.

"He's the man you've been seeing for a year, I think he's very much in relevance with your life, don't you think?"

"Well, not anymore," Abby spat. 

"But his presence is still felt, right? You work with him, he said he loves you, he's concerned about your current situation," DeRaad said. 

"He feels he has to," Abby said immediately, her body hunching forward just a centimeter, and then resting back.

"Why?" DeRaad asked. 

"He..." Abby shook her head. "He has this compulsion for helping people, it's... he does that, that's what Luka does."

"Well, there's a difference between being a helpful person because it's in your nature, and helping someone simply because you care. Just like you cared about your mother."

She didn't say anything.

He decided to change the subject. "When you were with, uh," he searched his previous notes. "Richard. When you started seeing him, would you say you were in love with him?"

Abby shook her head again, her mouth partly open. "Isn't that why people get married?"

"Not always. Some people get married to get a visa, for money, or because it's safe," he said, hoping that last reason wouldn't make her angry.

She seemed gone all of a sudden, distant. He wondered if she was trying to remember something, or if she was purposely day dreaming so she couldn't hear him. She was quiet for a long time, and he decided it would be her choice when the conversation resumed. But it seemed as though he wasn't in the room, as if she was alone in her bedroom, talking to herself. 

"The ice queen," she said all of a sudden. 

DeRaad wrote that down, and looked up at her. "What does that mean?"

Abby curled her mouth in a downward smile, almost sad. "He liked to call me that. It was a joke we had. I called him Dr. Callousness, he called me ice queen."

He nodded. "Is there a truthfulness to that nickname?"

Abby kept looking away, as if she had to think hard to remember. She seemed confused and gone. It was the first time in her life she had ever felt this way. 

"I tried to make it better. I knew it wouldn't work, but I did try. Maybe we just weren't meant to be, but I tried everything to love him, even if it was just as a friend. That doesn't work for me very often, even now. Is that weird?"

DeRaad kept quiet for a second, waiting for her to say something, answer her own question as she had been doing. He knew that in that second, she was being receptive. It was a gate that seldom opened in his patients, and he had to move in quickly before it closed. 

"Sometimes," he said carefully, as if he was talking to a child. "When we don't feel worthy, we can't give or receive anything. To someone laboring under a feeling of low self-esteem, love is completely unrecognizable and therefore unattainable."

The gate closed. Abby let out a couple of sarcastic chuckles. "You think that's my problem, I have low self-esteem."

"It's common of alcoholics and drug addicts."

"I don't feel **_worthy_**?" she asked, almost in a mocking manner, laughing. Her head flicked to her side and a strand of hair covered her eyes. She removed it immediately. 

"Do you?" DeRaad asked. His demeanor changed as he wrote something down, and he continued in a different manner, as if they were talking about the weather or sports. "Do you feel loved by someone? Your mother? Your brother? Your friends?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Abby asked, shaking her foot. 

"You just told me a minute ago that it was impossible for your boyfriend..."

"Ex boyfriend."

"Ex boyfriend to love you," DeRaad said. "You feel like he said it only to make you feel better."

Abby wanted to say something, come up with the best rebuttal, but her mind was weakening, and inside she felt a fire burning, energy running madly through her veins, anger consuming her.

"If you think that I'm one of those people who had a rough childhood and never heard an 'I love you' from her parents, then you're wrong. I heard it plenty, from my dad, from Maggie..."

"But then your father left."

Abby rolled her eyes. In the back of her mind a buzz went off, and she realized she had the right to get up and walk out whenever she wanted. But something had her glued to her seat. The more she tried to keep quiet, the more she talked. 

"And Maggie would get depressed. What happened when Maggie was in a bad mood?" DeRaad asked. 

Abby smiled. "You know about Bipolar Disorder."

"Would she hit you?" he asked again, carefully, in a soothing and reassuring voice.

"It was the 60s," Abby said defensively. 

"Any verbal abuse?" DeRaad asked. 

Abby shook her head, looking to her side for a second. "It wasn't Maggie's fault."

"Whose fault was it?"

"She's sick," Abby said. 

DeRaad made a pause, trying to choose his battles carefully. He knew that if he asked the wrong question, she'd leave and possibly never return. It was weird to make process like this so quickly, so he figured the first session left her with a willingness she had been resisting for a long time. It was good, he knew, but he wondered just how many layers he would have to peel, if she would go home tonight and in the outside world something would make her retrieve. But before he could ask his next question, he was surprised to hear Abby continue.

"Look, just because I took care of Maggie and my brother doesn't mean I was a good daughter. People always assume that because they feel pity. I wasn't. I did some pretty bad things, and I got what I deserved."

"What kind of bad things?" DeRaad asked, writing faster as Abby's walls began to crumble slowly.

"I wasn't a good daughter," Abby repeated. 

"Give me an example of not being a good daughter."

Abby let out a sigh of frustration. "Maggie was sick, I had to take care of Eric and the house. I wasn't good at it. I put the whites in with the colors, I almost burned the house down when I tried to make an omelet. I was supposed to pay the rent and I forgot about it."

DeRaad looked up, his pen still resting on the paper, creating a dot of black ink which grew larger and larger every second. "Adults pay the rent, and cook, and iron. None of those things were your responsibility and if any of that went wrong, it's not your fault, you were just a child."

He saw her motionless, her mouth in a straight, thin line. She looked like a wall, and it was flabbergasting to him that so many thing were coming to the surface, and yet she wouldn't cry, or whimper, or seem sad. It was almost as if she was talking to him about someone else's life, someone she knew long ago. The bad thing about walls is that you can't get through to them. He knew she wouldn't believe any of what he said now. The box of Kleenex sat on a small table next to her, untouched. He knew that she'd need them soon, maybe in the next session or two. 

"It's true that Maggie is sick, but she has always had the option to take her medication, make herself better." She didn't say anything, so he continued. "What happened when you forgot to pay the rent?"

Abby remained still, this time looking down at her hands. All those memories she had put on the back of her mind, she had been successful to ignore them, make them disappear. They didn't exist anymore, and when you don't remember something, then it probably never happened in the first place. But if you do remember, then it was all real. 

But he didn't understand. Maggie was sick, it wasn't her fault. Yeah, Abby liked to blame Maggie for her screwed up life, but she knew that wasn't true. She knew it because she heard it every day when she was a kid. 'Your mother is sick, you have to cooperate.' 'Your mother is sick, why can't you be a better daughter?' 'Your mother is sick, and the things she does are not her fault.' So whose fault was it? When the rent doesn't get paid and it was your responsibility to do so, then it must be your fault, right? That's how life works. There's always a cause and an effect. You can't have an effect without a cause, and you can't have a cause unless someone sets it in motion. In this case, the cause was hers to set, and she didn't.

"If you forget something important it means that you're stupid," she let out in the middle of her thoughts. She didn't notice what she had said, because a distant voice had whispered it in her ear. It wasn't really a flashback, more like a sound flick in her mind. 

"Your mother called you stupid?"

Abby looked at him, still fighting to prove her point, convince him of what she had been convinced long ago. "All I had to do was put the envelope on the mail box, that's not hard, even for a 2 year old. But I forgot and the rent was two weeks late, it cost my mother 200 dollars." 

"And what did it cost you?"

~*~

Counting sheep is a load of crap. Eventually you get to a point where you have to think of the next number, and when you try too hard, you'll never get to sleep. 

She had been tossing and turning all night, thinking just about everything. She had given up on the idea of trying to define 'taking a break'. Obviously Luka knew what he was doing, so she left that in his hands. 

But she couldn't stop thinking about the things DeRaad said. It was as if she had been strapped to a chair and being slapped over and over again. But she was still too confused. Inside, her own convictions were fighting hard with the truth for dominance. They were winning so far. 

She didn't like talking about her life for many reasons. For one, people always react the same way. Poor little Abby, grew up with a screwed up mother and now she can't even put her own life together. Second, everyone assumes you're an emotional wreck, ready to cry at the mere mention of the word Bambi. Third, people are judgmental. No matter how hard they try not to point fingers, they do anyway because it's basic human nature. Fourth, and worst of all, they leave. People like her are just not made up to be great friends, the life of the party, not even good girlfriends or boyfriends. Eventually, people drift away. She couldn't risk that now, when she was so vulnerable. 

Luka said that he loved her. Was that real? Or was she imagining it? It just couldn't be true, at all. Luka was a good man, the kind who date a pure and white princess with her yellow locks and beautiful singing voice. They live in a big house, they have three children, and they live happily ever after. She wasn't like that. She couldn't even come close if she tried. What was so appealing about her anyway? What part of her could he possibly love? Her and Luka... it's like fitting pieces of different puzzles. 

And Maggie. It all came down to that, always. She could run and run for the rest of her life and she could never escape that. Well, yeah, Maggie had the choice to take her medication. Well, sometimes she did. Sometimes she'd go months taking it. Sometimes she was normal, and it was ok. Maybe it just wasn't her anymore, but she was normal. She was unhappy, but normal. She was distant, but normal. Normal didn't seem like something Maggie was meant to be. 

And it wasn't something Abby was meant to be either. Why couldn't she feel all those overwhelming emotions people talk about in movies and romance novels? She did try, very hard. Maybe she wasn't meant to love either, or be loved. 

She tossed to her side one more time and picked up the phone. She knew she'd get a nice speech for the late call, but she didn't care. 

"Hello?"

Sure enough, groggy and grumpy. 

"Eric?" 

"Abby?" he asked, still sleepy. "It's 2 am."

"I know," Abby said apologetically. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"You couldn't wait till the morning?"

"No," Abby said, playing with her sheets. 

"Are you ok?" he asked. Usually a late call from Abby meant bad news. It was always either, "Maggie is in the hospital," or, "Abby's in trouble." He waited for the latest. 

"Yeah, I just wanted to talk," she continued. 

"Are you, drunk?" he asked carefully. 

"No! But thanks for keeping your faith in me," Abby smiled. 

"Well, Abby, you call me at 2 in the morning, what do you expect?" Eric said defensively. 

"Hey," Abby deviated the subject. "Do you remember when we were kids?"

"Of course," Eric said. 

"All of it?"

"Most of it. Why?" he asked, sounding more alert now, but equally annoyed. 

"Do you think that..." she held her breath for a second, not knowing how to continue. "Do you think that Maggie was... I mean, do you think it was as bad as people think it is?"

Eric kept quiet for a moment. Where was this coming from? Abby never liked talking about their childhood, only the happy memories. Whenever he tried to talk to her about the bad ones, she'd change the subject or leave the room. He knew it had been easier for him, he had always been taken care of by Abby. Even when Maggie was gone, he had Abby there. She was his mother. But Abby didn't have anyone. Their aunt would come over every once in a blue moon. She would take care of Maggie, and then yell and complain because the house would be dirty. But still, when things went sour, when Maggie was out of control, when there was no food, no heat, and no power, he could tip toe into Abby's room and crawl into bed with her, and everything suddenly would be safe. Without Abby, he would probably be an emotional wreck. He had always tried to pay it back, but he didn't know how. 

"What do you mean?" he finally asked. 

"You know what I mean," Abby said, annoyed. 

He let out a sigh. "It wasn't so bad for me, Abby, I had you and dad. Was it bad for you? Yeah, I think so. But, that's something only you can tell. Some things are hard for some people, but not hard for others."

Abby kept the phone to her ear, and curled her mouth in doubt. "I'm seeing a therapist."

"Really?" He sounded surprised, but pleased. 

"Yeah, you win, I'm crazy," she said sarcastically. 

"You're not crazy, Abby. But I'm glad you're getting help."

"Please don't call it help, I don't really need help. It's just a... consultation."

"Whatever you wanna call it, I'm glad you're doing it." He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "Do you want me to go up there?"

"No," Abby said immediately. 

"Are you sure? I think I should," Eric continued.

"I'm fine," she smiled. "But thank you."

Eric wasn't convinced, at all. What he feared the most was that Abby would relapse again. He went through that before, and it wasn't fun to see your sister, your role model, your surrogate mother struggling to keep alive. Richard didn't help either. Maggie made it worse. He tried his best to help, but his efforts were useless. It always made him feel guilty. 

"Are you sure?" he asked once more. 

"Yeah," Abby said. "How are things down there?"

"Ok. I saw mom yesterday, they set a date for the wedding."

"Oh, great," Abby rolled her eyes. "I suppose I'd have to go."

"Watch out, she was talking about making you maid of honor," he said. 

Abby raised her eyebrows, letting out a sigh. "Sorry I woke you up."

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Night."

"Take care of yourself."

She hung up the phone, but remained in the same position. She wondered if her sponsor was awake. She really didn't want to talk about what DeRaad had said, but at the same time she felt an overwhelming feeling to escape. Her best escape was alcohol. She was pretty sure she wouldn't drink, but the urge is the worst part. The funny part was that she couldn't even remember when she started drinking. Maggie usually had drinks around the house, because that was always the only medication she'd take. She remembered tasting it as a child, and hating it. She remembered being convinced to try beer in high school, mostly just peer pressure. Somewhere down the line it became a habit, and then an addiction, and then deadly weapon. 

She closed her eyes tight, and began to count sheep again, but all of a sudden the sheep were gone, and the field was replaced with her old house. 

__

She was 8 and had just come from school to find Maggie in the kitchen, waiting for her. She looked upset, holding an envelope in her hands, and tapping her foot on the floor. She must have been in one of her episodes, so Abby tried to ignore her by going straight into her room. Maggie followed. She showed Abby the envelope, the rent she had forgotten to pay a couple of weeks before. Now Maggie would have to pay almost double the cost, and as usual, she didn't have the money to do so. 

She rolled to her other side, but couldn't keep the memory away. 

__

She had seen Maggie mad before, but not like this. She was throwing things, at Abby, at the walls, everywhere. Abby kept apologizing, over and over, but Maggie wouldn't hear any of it. "What is your problem, Abby? I ask you to do one thing for me, **one **thing, and you forget? How can you be so **stupid**?"

She had forgotten all about that day, but during the session it came back to her, flowing like a slow and small stream down a mountain. And it all just made it clearer and simple. She was right. How could Luka love a weak and stupid person? How could anyone? According to DeRaad, to her love was unrecognizable and therefore unattainable. People feel and believe. People see and believe. But when you can't see something, when you can't feel it... is it really there? 

To be continued...


End file.
